She always told me that life was a prison.

That death reigns supreme in life, she got orgasms from scenes of suffering, injustice, disorder and children's tears, that she had no enemy and life was disgustingly beautiful.

She seemed quite happy and energetic for such a negative and depressive sense of life.

I thought she was extremely beautiful and yet she told me that she hated her shell, and went on to explain the reason being simply that "she did not choose it".

That statement was the insight to her dismissal of every sort of authority, mostly the inherent authority of existence itself, how it dictated how she must live. She had a drive that made her uneasy and not wanting to adapt to this world and simply live and she thought that this drive was the only thing that made her see this existence for what it really is, a prison.

She believed everybody had this drive, but that they justify it into things like "religion, politics, family, work" and that she just wanted to experience that drive without those veils around it.

She not only did not want to let go of this drive to "live a better life" she was believing that that drive was the only real value in life.

The flame that burned within every human being, but the very flame that they tried to extinguish.

The flame of no joy, no friendship, no companionship, no safety, the flame of void. The flame that sometimes takes over the person which humans disgustingly call "depression". The only real flame, calling one away from the prison.

The flame of chaos.

Her mother was presently absent with her constant harassment and fear and her father was ever present with his calculated absence.

She grew herself up into a malfunction of an antithesis to this existence, it was beautiful seeing her move around the room devouring every sort of life.

Death was the only thing that she saw, an utter blackness of uncertainty. She was absolutely disgusted by her conclusions, because conclusions were an act of certainty. Everything in life was to do with a false sense of certainty. She noted that she accepted her dreams right away, even if paranormal things were happening in them, and she told that the same would happen in life. Nay! It happened everyday in life! That everybody were coming to terms with inner and outer unacceptableness and they were first torturing themselves and later coming up with new conclusions from these breaks of certainties. This was reminding every human being that life; their utmost certainty will be crushed by death someday. Nay! It was crushed everyday by death. Death was life, but life was an illusion, certainties were transient illusions speckling in the sea of death.

Existence was a speckle of illusion in the midst of chaos. Everything has uncertainty, meaninglessness and emptiness in it and yet the illusion of certainty persists. It congregates itself into a ghastly vapor of cloud called form. From the fallacy that those illusions are forever and one, we claim authority. Authority; forgoing the fact that we perceive those forms differently, hence can never fully apply our experience to each other, yet we claim authority.

They used to sacrifice domestic animals to gods, and sacrifice was the most important support of cosmos. They thought because they slaughtered animals, their world was holding together. Now we sacrifice more than ever before, and animals suffer for all their lives to end up in our plates, and we torture each other and ourselves in a thousand ways. All of us partake in these religious and million meaningless sacrifices through the day and yet pass judgment from our moral high grounds.

We sacrifice all day, everyday, everything for reasons we cannot really altogether comprehend. Yet we still think our means will lead to ends and fanatically support our ways from moral high grounds. Every single person is still religious to the core and it is jihad everyday everywhere.

She does not pretend to care if animals nor humans die or plants are lost and this world goes to shit, she is more concerned with how she ended up in such a place. Just like everybody else really, but she is conscious therefore anti-religious. She does not think of forms she thinks of destruction.

She loves to do things out of spite, she feels pleasure from offending everyone for she sees them walking on the street with blood all over their hands from the lives lived in expense of others, the hearts they break. Yet still passing judgment. She believes in absolute immorality, but she is no worse. She likes black metal because it celebrates a great suffering; she likes to see suffering in art because she feels extreme sensitivity in sensitive artists expressing extreme insensitivity.

She hates getting censored and judged for her extreme art because she is just portraying the world as she sees it. These people eating their filet mignons of an animal that suffered all its life, and died upside down slaughtered then coming and saying she is wrong because of her subject matter. These people go home and hurt their kids, they hurt everyone and everything, yet pass judgment like they are pure, and this causes great pain for her.

She knows she is evil just like everybody else, a child molesting, rapist, torturous murderer, but she is conscious therefore anti-religious. She does not think of dichotomies, she thinks of suicide.

I might as well commit suicide one day, it is on my mind. However, death is not an "escape" for me. I never could believe those who claim to have achieved a religious or irreligious certainty regarding death. Romanticizing death as an escape or a profane finality is not "realistic" to me. Thinking death is the good escape is the same as thinking any sort of materialistic or personal change is going to be the triumph for someone who is not happy with their current situation. Having said that, it is as logical and as mundane a change as those things for me. Accepting an occupational offer from a distant town is same as accepting to end one's life. Playing with death is playing with uncertainty, we do it everyday. Death is the ultimate uncertainty; nobody knows what is going to come out from it. Just like nobody has any tangible information as to what consciousness "is" they have got no clue what death means to the "individual" if there is such a thing or lack thereof.

Life is like climbing down a mountain on a rope, there are billions of ropes all going down the same mountain, most people hold onto each other's ropes. You don't know whence you came from, your first memory is on that rope, and seeing many people do the same. When you look down you see all those who are miserable and are falling, you see a pitch black below. Up above is a white sky of equal nothingness.

Most people look anywhere but down, and yet you like to look down, and converse with people about below. People tell you not to look down and concentrate on the climb alone, yet you feel the need to know where you are going. Some suggest looking up instead, but you think it is pointless, thinking that is not where you are headed, and it hurts your eyes for nothing and renders you incapable of even seeing the rope. Yet people tell you not to look down. Some jump off, thinking it is where they are going anyway. Most try to enjoy this climb, yet you try to ask people about below. Some claim it is going to be white like above, some claim the climb will restart in another rope and yet you know nobody knows, and they get uncomfortable when you ask.

They say you are evil for looking below, they say you have no right to climb while looking down, they shun you. As time goes, your whole purpose becomes thinking about below, and people don't like it, you think of letting go.

We sensitize over mere words, eating these sacrificed animals and claim we are no longer religious, tell me how some words are not spells that could get you killed or worse? Everybody is so religious that it disgusts us, yet we claim we are scientific.
We exalt our subjective views on art into objective value fallacies like snakes, and try to take bites out of creative minds, when truly confronted we recoil to the position of "in my opinion(s)".

While there are no forms, we create the illusion of form and try to
claim authority over it, just like our non-existent "god's". We say, "this is true, believe it, I am right" and want people to obey us through it.

Death spreads its wings into life.

Satan shows the holes in cosmos for us to see.

This is all what life is about, illusions. Some see this drug of life as something to be enjoyed while it lasts, she is more concerned with death. Dark spirituality is following the inner drive to refuse to live.

Everyday we do many things, where we either don't know or care about the outcome.

In either case their results are unpredictable in different degrees.
The unpredictability factor is the devil, it is death and it is within everything in varying degrees.

Think almost all things you do bearing in mind your expectations and the results. Think...

Working with death is just like working with anything else, you work with the unpredictable.

Looking at death is looking at life without any veils of illusion; you
are looking at something without any form.

Form is an illusion, like this record, it just pretends to exist within a destructible medium. Neither experiencing it nor being unaware of it or its total annihilation makes it a constant or void; fleeting moments make it dynamically desirable or undesirable for other fleeting moments. In this regard, an illusion of total freedom arises. Like a feeling that since nothing really "exists" one can bend all reality. But no! You still have to master the ways of this inherent "illusion" to make way for this idea of perceptual or spiritual total freedom how is that freedom? And if it is not freedom, and freedom does not exist, why do I long for such freedom? Where does this longing for something that does not exist come from? Even if I somehow reach this alleged ambition, why did I ever have to fight all my life to reach it? And can it actually be reached when such question is ever asked? Isn't this the reason most accomplished so- called people end up depressed and suicidal? This is a game that has promises of possibilities in it, nothing more.

Very few truly ask the question of why being put inside an existence, which is a game with its own specific rules that only "it" can bend.
A game that they did not choose but constantly are forced to play and "master" in their own ways and as much they see the reflection of this question in their lives, they get depressed.
Activity-inactivity and a possible suffering on both spectrums drive people nuts over trying to find both inner and outer patterns and
ways to come to desirable ends.

Since this is the key to this prison, even if you're happy you never cease to be a prisoner; only a prisoner who enjoys prison. Some seem to value this very highly and even dedicate their lives to making the most out of this life that they did not choose. Those people that have "found their ways" in life's prison lose a limb, get raped, end up in the hands of a torturing maid when they are old, get a morbid disease or anything that renders their system which enables them to "make the most out of" this precarious prison unusable. Everybody feels dwarfed by uncertainty, and uncertainty is forever, it is everywhere, death reigns supreme in life. I wish immense suffering to every living being. Rape upon all women, children's death upon all families, breaking of certainty, torture upon all animals, plants, I have no enemy and life is blindingly beautiful.

My life was something that I could enjoy, but I was both unable and refused to. I was healthy, had resources and skills but did not want to partake in this charade. Inner and outer forces were always on the attack to unbalance me and dealing with them and making life better never seemed like a quest I could enjoy. I was more concerned with why and how I was put in such a place, a game I don't remember agreeing to play. The mysteries and fascinations took a friendly farewell as I willingly let them sail away, and although I have no expectations from death, I enter through the gate.