this one actually has a title it is called mere existence and its pretty stupid

wha t is a part hello heres my story

Nothing dies, and nothing is born, and nothing lives. But everything exists. Without death and birth and life, everything is cold. Its always winter here, and its always freezing. It's always dark, and it's always lonely. And at night, the darkness is consuming. It envelops me in its harshness and while I truly believe that it's screaming, and my ears echo with its screams, I know that it's just the quietness of it all that is causing me to have these delusions. I would like to think I'm not delusional, and that everything I see and hear is real, and I would like the affirmation of sanity, but I fear reality. My reality, and my world, and my existence, is insanity itself.

It's difficult to depict my thoughts from my voice. If I shout, it gets sucked into a void. If I scream, it dissipates into the cold air. If I think, my thoughts get dismissed by the wind. It doesn't matter what I do, or what I say, my words get lost. And it gets very cold.

I dream of a world where my thoughts are not lost. A warm world filled with others like me who hope to find comfort in company. And when I speak, my words would fill the air and explode and fall and rest on the heads of others. And I could be happy. But I know that is a delusional thought. I know I can never reach that world. I like to dream of it anyway.

I've been walking for years. The wind pushes me back and forth, and sideways, and my face burns, but I keep walking. I never get too far. I've never reached anywhere warm. I keep walking though. And I keep my dreams held close. Sometimes, I would trip on something and fall and I would scrape my hands, but I will never be able to see what it is. It's usually too dark to see. Sometimes, I believe that people are playing tricks on me, and they trip me on purpose, and sometimes, if I listen close enough, I can hear them laughing. I sometimes laugh too.

Today was spectacular. It was beautiful. For the first time, I witnessed such intense light I got a headache. I reached a swamp. The ice had frozen over, so it wasn't quite a swamp. But it was the first time I've seen the sky in its entirety, and it was beautiful. I had pressed my face against the ice, and I swear I could see something move. It was only for a second, but it was beautiful. My eyes burned from the light, but I really quite enjoyed it. It hurt a lot, and it felt like layers of my eyes were being torn off bit by bit. My eyelids would shut tight and I would have to tug at my eye sockets to keep them open. It was painful, but this wasn't the first time I've been allowed to see. Sometimes, it would get bright for a minute, and the black sky would flash with dark purple swirls. And I would smile. Even though it hurt my eyes, I would smile. I've learned that sometimes the things that hurt at first end up making you happy. It's hard to get accustomed to, but it did make me happy. But the light at the swamp was different. It was a light grey, almost white, and it didn't swirl. It looked plastered on. It was a disgusting and murky sight, and it made my stomach uneasy. So uneasy, it gave me a stomach cramp and I began to feel ill. So ill, that I became scared that I truly would die. But I know that's not possible, even if sometimes I do wish that things would die. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the eeriness of the plaster sky. I gave in and allowed my eyes to close for just a minute. I still smiled. Even if I couldn't always witness brightness and sometimes I had to allow darkness to reappear, I knew that I would always search for light. It would always be something I would search for.

I smiled, until I looked down at the ice to scope out the moving object I had seen earlier. I had to check one last time. I found the clearest spot on the ice and pressed my face against it. And then the ice started to melt. And for the first time, I truly felt like I was alive and not just merely existing. I felt the hotness of my face spread itself across the cold surface. My face got colder, but I could feel something. I felt alive. So I kept my face on the ice. And soon, water was pooling around my head. I smiled until all the ice had melted and I saw my reflection in the water. I no longer felt alive. I screamed. I screamed very loud. I hoped someone could hear me but my screams immediately dissipated into the air. Yet I kept screaming. My throat burned and I could feel my mouth stretching wider and wider, and I kept screaming. I understood why I was sent to this world. I didn't deserve much more. I was a disgusting creature with a disfigured face and I was so white that my skin glowed and radiated something absolutely horrible. So horrible that I disgusted my own self. I was appalled that all this time, I was just a vile and hideous monstrosity. I could feel my voice scratching my throat and I felt that at any moment, old wounds would break and split open and cause blood to pour from my mouth. And even though I screamed as loud as I could, my screams were lost. But below my screams, I could hear someone speaking to me. I closed my mouth, and I listened. I listened closely until I heard something grow louder and louder. They were quiet whispers. When I had finally found the direction, I noticed it was a hymn of sorts.

"Please don't scream. Please don't scream. Please don't scream." with each word, the chant got louder. And gloomier.

I had stopped screaming, but the chants didn't stop.

"PLEASE DON'T SCREAM. PLEASE DON'T SCREAM. PLEASE DON'T SCREAM." it was a mixture of yelling, and shrieking, and crying. And it didn't stop.

I smiled. Someone had been worried about me. The chant continued. And I closed my eyes and listened to their worries. I fell asleep, but I didn't dream of anything. I just watched the purple swirls on the back of my eyes.

There was silence again when I had woken up. Everything was gone. Even the swamp. I sighed. I was comfortable in the swamp. Or at least I allowed myself to believe that. I continued my walk when I had once again tripped on something. My knees were scraped up and bloody, but I smiled. In this world, I have to get hurt sometimes to feel alive.

I heard something again. It wasn't chanting this time. It was a very somber voice.

"I can take you somewhere warm," the voice had called out to me.

"Away from here?" I shouted into the sky.

"Yes. I've been trying to leave. I think I know how. Let me take you."

And I was taken away. Wherever I was to be taken, I hoped it would be better than here. Better than this dark world that I had to live in. Somewhere that wasn't cold. I didn't much trust this voice. It was much like my own. It was somber. And its words would echo and dissipate into the air, but I allowed it to take me elsewhere. I risked the possibility of it having a face like mine. Perhaps because my face itself isn't disturbing. Perhaps because I feared my own self. Perhaps because the darkness that I had feared, and I had existed in, and I had travelled through, was the darkness that I had created.