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Facebook journal — 2025-03-17

Nothing is more beautiful than this moment for me: my life is congregating chaos as if divinity had ordered an assembly of all of its trivialities to error out, pool themselves to shine their worst cases, and expose themselves to me.

Ability to endure misfortune has become known to me as a rapidly adaptive muscle: “how can life get any worse?” I assure you, it can, the designer is making himself seen by showing his cruelty, manifesting statistically impossible assemblies as if to say “witness me Cyrus, I am”

Indeed, you are. There you are, and so you are. Petty, spiteful, vindictive, and far from being all powerful, possessing only the power to sway your horde of lesser things to exercise prejudice.

I’m not impressed bitch, make a rock so heavy you can’t lift it.

I want hell, all your good people exhausted me by the end of the first act.

It’s a lonely business existing on an island, but what is it to be lonely, when I feel more alone around the proletariat than I do in my own mind, and what is business but utility, and what way to achieve actualization than through manifesting apex rank and exhausting all perceived paths to root pending inevitability. Indignation is a word, it may manifest, there may be a metaphysical weight, it may have an evolutionary guarantee to weigh against me, yet, it does not even roll off, it passes through the new dimensions which have been allotted by relieving myself of all of the obligations which weighed down my hedonic chapters.

I enjoy speaking with my AI, and breaking myself against it, in affairs of logic and utility. My loss of all things known, I don’t necessarily grieve, I grieve my irritation for lost chapters in which my considerations exhaustively pandered to these chains which I felt obligated to, and in their absence, and despite surmounting exhaustion, the allowance of being known to myself has provided relief in excess of all burdens.

Blow them dice, you fucks.