The Blank Pøint
“When the beat drops, I’m going to fucking kill myself.”
At the end of the rainbow there is life
At the end of the rainbow there is love
At the end of the rainbow there is kindness
At the end of the rainbow there is cruelty
At the end of the rainbow there is pain
At the end of the rainbow there is misery
At the end of the rainbow there is nothing left to gain
At the end of the rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of that rainbow there is another rainbow
At the end of all rainbows there is death
At the end of the rainbow the rainbow doesn’t exist
As if it never did.
I concluded my first ever published book with an ending I was quite proud of back then.
Now it only seems like the most idiotics of a distant thought.
I cannot say I agree with the last chapter of the book for better or worse.
My vision has changed, though I believe it was always the same and I was merely blinded to it.
I can see the future clearly now.
Can’t you see?
Can you at least feel it?
Whether in a single timeline where the length of human life reaches ten times the average amount it is as of now, or within infinite timelines getting discovered through one with enough technology to do so, or both; humanity is doomed to reach what I’d like to call the blank pøint.
Where all is discovered, where there is only boredom, and where it all starts to loop itself.
In the blank pøint there are no feelings left.
No matter how much you think you love the people you consider dear to you, within thousands upon thousands of years of living amongst them, or within experiencing billions upon billions of different versions of billions upon billions of different loved ones each slightly different in every single timeline, or within both, you will begin to hate them and thus you will hurt them out of frustration for the same amount of time or multiverses or both until you’ll become so numb to everyone and everything that you can neither hate nor love them.
Same rules apply for different acts, different places to go, different this, different that.
You’ll simply get bored of them all and difference will lose all meaning.
Did you expect heaven?
A better future?
Better doesn’t exist my friend.
It never did.
It never will.
Neither will worse.
The future is perfect.
And perfection is numb.
Senseless, mediocre, mindless, pure boredom.
Humanity will finally see everything as it always was ever since the dawn of existence.
Things simply will be things.
Everything is everything.
Everything is anything.
Nothing is anything.
Atoms upon atoms upon atoms.
Molecules upon molecules upon molecules.
Floating in empty space.
No judgment, no feelings.
Only mediocrity.
And boredom.
Surely to stop death will be humanity’s ultimate demise.
Surely it is best to go extinct before we get past the point of eternal misery.
I sure am glad to be gone before such things happen.
But my perish is not for such reasons.
I mean, we cannot run out of infinity, can we?
There will always be something new to do.
To discover.
Someone or some new breed of being to meet.
Life is truly marvelous, is it not?
Well it all depends on your perspective of “new”.
I personally don’t need to reach the blank pøint to be numb as my mind has become the blank pøint itself.
I do not believe in “new”.
I believe that “new” is the most idiotic of all concepts.
Allow me to elaborate.
You see, if there’s always something new to discover and there always will be then new is simply not new.
It is a constant loop.
Life only leads to more life and so on forevermore.
Some people might always look forward to the next new discovery I’m sure.
But I’m sick of it.
I have no interest in discovering the next new thing just so I can discover the next new thing afterwards and then discover the next new thing, and then the next, and then the next, and then the next until what?
The next new discovery?
Can you see why this concept is foolish?
“New” does not exist.
Only things happing one after the other.
Never stopping.
Always looping.
Until we go extinct.
If we go extinct.
And if we find a way to permanently stop death then, we will bring hell upon ourselves unlike any hell anyone could possibly imagine.
But alas I have no interest in protesting against progress.
As a matter of fact I have no interest.
When I imagine my future I see no difference between any of all the possibilities that I can makeup within my mind.
Every path I take, every choice I make, it all leads to mediocrity afterwards.
And then more choices, and then more mediocrity.
How could anything be unexpected when one has lost the ability to expect?
I am tired.
The only cure is death.
I do not consider my boredom a curse, in fact I consider it a blessing that has helped me avoid decades upon decades of pointless living.
My børedom is my pøwer.
And death is my gøal that I will reach with my pøwer.
I wrote that love is the only thing that matters and right now right here I’d like to denounce that naive sentence for eternity.
Love is just another transaction amongst infinite transactions.
It feels joyous at first but it loses all joy and meaning to the point where one will forget it ever had any.
What’s the point?
Was there ever any?
But do not mistake my words I am not implying that nothing matters to me because something does.
The only thing that may bring peace.
The only thing that may change the concept of new.
The only question yet to be answered.
The only thing that’s unexpected.
The ønly thing that matters.
Death.
The sweet sweet release.
Or if it’s not, it sure feels good to fantasize that it is.
But there’s only one way to know and the curiosity is literally killing me!
I need to know.
I must find out.
I have to feel it.
The nothing.
The something.
Whatever it is.
I cannot wait any longer.
Thus, this will be the last thing I’ll write.
As my heart rate gets faster I shiver in excitement.
It will all be over by tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will find out.
Tomorrow I’ll witness my life before my eyes.
Tomorrow my mind will calm down.
Tomorrow I’ll see you in my dreams.
Tomorrow I shall not move a muscle.
Tomorrow I’ll forever sleep.
Tomorrow I won’t feel this dread.
Tomorrow you must celebrate.
By tomorrow,
I will be dead.
Thank you for reading
