saanjh // she/her // shitposts and a lot of fangirling // terminally online again hi
6601 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
aladyinkuwait
A Lady In Kuwait
tremendousdestinytraveler-blog
Untitled
maajoba-blog1
Maajoba e-Trading Solution
a-mermaid-poet
I want to be a mermaid
Note
A chat between athesist and the devil
The train rattled rhythmically, each clickety-clack echoing through Mark's head like a metronome counting down the minutes until he could crawl into his own bed. He hadn't slept well the night before, his mind a tangled mess of work deadlines and an overflowing inbox. He glanced out the window, the grey cityscape blurring past at an uninspired pace. A sigh escaped his lips, a puff of warm air against the cool glass.
Suddenly, a booming voice cut through the rhythmic clatter. "Excuse me, sir, mind if I share your seat?"
Mark flinched, startled from his reverie. A man sat there, already taking up half the space. He was an odd one: light dress shirt straining against a not-so-subtle paunch, a loosened tie askew, and hair slicked back like an oil slick catching the harsh fluorescent light. His eyes, however, were the most unsettling part - beady black and wholly devoid of warmth.
"Uh, sure," Mark mumbled, scooting his briefcase over with a reluctance he couldn't quite explain.
The man grinned, a wide, toothy affair that sent a shiver down Mark's spine. "Thanks. You wouldn't happen to have a light, would you?"
Mark shook his head, surprised by the request. People rarely smoked these days, and certainly not on public transportation. "No, sorry. I don't smoke."
"Wouldn't have figured you for the type anyway," the man said, his gaze lingering on Mark's worn backpack. "More of a non-believer, I'd wager."
Mark raised an eyebrow. "Believer? Believer in what?"
"The whole, you know, God stuff," the man said, his voice dripping with a knowing amusement. "The purpose of existence. Why, in this absurd universe, are we forced to endure meaninglessness?"
Mark scoffed. "Not really. There's no proof, is there? Just a bunch of empty promises and fear-mongering."
Proof?" The man chuckled, a low rumble that resonated with a disturbing familiarity. "What constitutes proof these days, hmm? Can you prove love exists? Can you measure the weight of a soul on a scale?"
They settled into an uneasy silence, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of the train. Mark tried to bury himself back in his magazine, but the man's unsettling presence and words hung heavy in the air. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer.
"Look, mister," Mark started, his voice a touch sharper than intended, "whatever your game is, I'm not interested in existential angst."
The man's grin widened, if that was even possible. "Existential angst? No, my friend. Just a little..." he paused, searching for the right word, "...curiosity. Curiosity about the human capacity for faith. In a world devoid of inherent meaning, why do we cling to these illusions of a benevolent God?"
Mark felt a spark ignite within him, a flicker of defiance against the man's nihilism. "Maybe because the alternative is too terrifying," he countered. "Maybe without hope, without some grand purpose, life becomes utterly meaningless. A cruel joke played on an unsuspecting audience."
"Ah, the comfort of delusion," the man sighed, a hint of something akin to sadness flickering in his dark eyes. "But what if meaning is a burden we create ourselves? What if true freedom lies in embracing the absurdity, the chaos? As Nietzsche would say, 'God is dead,' and with him, all imposed meaning."
Mark felt a tremor of unease. This wasn't just idle conversation. The man spoke with a conviction that chilled him to the bone. "But without some moral compass, without a higher power to guide us, wouldn't humanity descend into chaos?"
“Perhaps," the man conceded. "But perhaps that chaos is the fertile ground from which true creation can blossom. Dostoevsky would argue that without suffering, without wrestling with the darkness, we cannot truly appreciate the light."
The train lurched unexpectedly, throwing them both off balance for a moment. As it settled back on its tracks, the man held up a hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But enough philosophy for now. Perhaps I can offer you a more...visual demonstration."
With a flick of his wrist, a swirling vortex materialized in the air between them, hidden from the rest of the train by the backs of the seats in front. Mark stared, mesmerized and horrified, as a fiery landscape unfolded before him. Grotesque creatures swarmed over tortured souls, the air thick with the stench of sulfur.
The man snapped his fingers, and the vortex sealed shut as abruptly as it had opened. The smell of sulfur lingered, a sickly sweet reminder of what Mark had just witnessed. He stared at the man, speechless, his terror a stark contrast to the amusement dancing in the man's eyes.
"So," the man drawled, "convinced now of the existence of...let's just say a very important being?"
Mark could only manage a shaky nod. He scrambled out of his seat, a maelstrom of emotions churning within him. Fear, yes, but also a strange sense of awe, and a flicker of something else - a desperate hope.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the man said, his voice surprisingly gentle. He reached out a hand, but Mark flinched away, scrambling towards the next car. The train attendant shot him a bewildered look as he practically ran past him, but Mark didn't care. He just needed to get away.
Settling into a new seat, Mark tried to piece together what had just happened. Had he really just seen Hell? And if that man was who he said he was...well Lucifer himself…
Mark felt a cold dread grip his heart. The man reappeared in the seat beside him, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
"Lost in thought, are we?" he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "You humans are such curious creatures. You crave meaning, yet you reject the very forces that offer it. You cling to the hope of a benevolent God, yet you fear the consequences of his opposite."
The man leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But here's the truth, my friend. There is no grand design, no cosmic plan. There's just existence, in all its chaotic glory. And you, with your free will, your capacity for love and hate, creation and destruction – you are the ones who give it meaning. You are the artists painting on the canvas of oblivion, even if the canvas itself is meaningless."
Mark stared at him, a mixture of fear and defiance rising within him. "So, what are you saying? That we're all doomed to wander this meaningless existence?"
The man's smile turned cold. "Doomed? No. Free. Utterly, terrifyingly free. Free to create your own purpose, your own morality, your own heaven or hell. But most of you," he continued, his voice laced with a bitter amusement, "are too afraid to embrace that freedom. You cling to the comfort of lies, the safety of preordained meaning. How very… human."
The train screeched to a halt, jolting them both. The man winked at Mark, then dissolved into a puff of sulfurous smoke, leaving behind only the lingering scent of brimstone and a chilling truth: in the grand cosmic joke, humanity was both the punchline and the playwright
12 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi Noc!!! I've been going through some stuff recently and I love your writing. Can you write something with the "right person, wrong life" trope? Like a person who would've been the best for you if only the circumstances were different
The city wept, a grey November tide,
When pixels first aligned our lonely plight.
Laughter, a flickering neon sign,
Cut through the storm that raged through half the night.
Your voice, a solace in the ether's hum,
Calmed the disquietude, the inner thrum.
Of love we spoke, a hollow, whispered plea,
Cloaked in the garb of casual amity
A flicker sparked, a meteor's fleeting grace,
Across the chasm of this digital space.
A yearning stirred, a truth the heart confessed,
But duty's chains held love a captive guest.
We, hollow men, adrift in time's cold stream,
Clung to the wreckage of a platonic dream.
You, with a spirit reaching for the stars,
Deserve a love that shatters earthly bars.
Another soul, with wings of boundless might,
Will bear you up to realms of endless light.
While I, earthbound, with clipped and weary wings,
Watch as your destiny a new song sings.
Though fate conspires in this terrestrial coil,
Across the void, our spirits shall still roil.
For in the tapestry of time's grand scheme,
We'll dance as one, a soul's eternal dream.
Because we know,
In every life but this, adrift and lost,
We are the lovers, forever at what cost?
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
spotify telling me to vote for bjp...... why don't you bj my pp instead
171 notes
·
View notes
Text
The question of if you never really knew someone to begin with or if people are just capable of changing on such a severe level you don’t recognize who they are anymore is haunting and I still don’t know which is scarier
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
A compilation of memes I found on Pinterest :)
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
breakdownd so hard
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
no babe the world isn't ending you're not a disappointment you're not a bad friend you're not a bad person
#you actually need sleep the last time you slept was 36 hours ago#you cannot afford another all nighter#go to sleep
1 note
·
View note
Text
head hurty tummy hurty why must life be so hard💔
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
right now you might be in a situation that you think you won’t survive but six months ago you were in a situation that you didn’t think you’d survive and two years before that you were in a situation you didn’t think you’d survive and the point is you will always surprise yourself and you will always make it through
323K notes
·
View notes
Text
i like you BUT THATS NOT ENOUGH so if you will please FALL IN LOVE WITH me<3
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Louis Janmot (France, 1814-1892)
Poème de l'âme (13) : Rayons de soleil
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
miss swift you are not a tortured poet you are a billionaire
18K notes
·
View notes
Text
how to quit every position of responsibility and study
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me
6K notes
·
View notes