After years of experiencing it, the horror that is existence has permeated my soul. A few nights ago I had an especially bleak dream. Bottles lined up in a row on a windowsill, and me wafting from room to room to the kitchen with the window, looking at the bottles, facing the plain horror of existence. In my sleep, a real but drugged vocalization—“hor… ror.” To say it woke me up. The nightmare continued unbroken.

Posted in Thoughts

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