CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
So I'm lying in bed and I can't hear my heart beating. Which isn't unusual in itself, but it got me thinking. What if it's just stopped beating? What if this is the last moment before I die? I don't know if that's how it happens, if it just stops beating and you have a moment where you feel normal but then you're dead. But it does happen. We do die. Luing fiknd
b thing of the day is over
because I have nothing to say and no new way to say the things I used to say
it is inevitable now that the only thing in front of me is death
no invention
nothing
sorry
BUT WHAT IF
there was a different path
_____________________________________
He wished so hard for immortality that it came! Time froze. His clock would never move again. Yet he lived, in this moment, forever. He could only ever exist in this state. But he was immortal, and that was what mattered, right? He could not get out of bed. Could never leave this room again. He was stuck, but he still existed. He could move within the bed. He could masturbate, that would keep him busy. He couldn't eat ever again. He could sleep, but what was the point when he always woke up to the same moment? But he was immortal! That was good! He masturbated many times in the first years. Just endless wanking, with no need to ever stop or get up. It felt good! The immortal wanker. He had enough memories of girls to wank over. Sometimes did it to guys too, why not. Sometimes just wanked to the thought of wanking. To memories of wanks past. It got harder to remember what other people looked like as the years went on. He wished he could reacd his laptop from his bed, he had a lot of things saved on it. But no, he was alone here forever. Eventually he could only rememer the shapes of other humans but looking at the action figures on the bookshelf opposite his bed, but that gave a rather distorted view. The people he imagined were all made of plastic. He had nightmares about them. He started to fear those action figures, so rolled over to face the wall so he would never have to look at them again. Madness was taking him, he realised. Maybe it already had. He lay on his left side for many years. Decades? Centuries? He couldn't tell. He had nothing to think about. He didn't know how much time was passing. He was always in one moment, yet it last forever. Was this hell? At some point he tried to roll over again and found he was merging with his bed. He managed to get over to his back, then he remembered the evil action figures who still haunted his memories. So he lay there, staring at the ceiling for a few millennia. At one point he started laughing like a maniac when he realised he couldn't remember his own name. What was a name, even? Why would he ever need to know again? He eventually decided to roll to his right. He couldn't really remember why he wasn't supposed to do that. Some old fear. He would face his fear and maybe it would kill him. Then he found that his back was completely merged with his bed now. He was a bedman, not even human anymore. He hadn't been for a long time, if he ever was. What was he becoming? He didn't know. He reached down for his penis, as his arms could still move. He couldn't find it. It seemed like it had retreated up into his bed. Oh well. He had no use for it anymore. He closed his eyes, hoping they would fuse shut permanently. He could finally die, perhaps. If he became the bed he would no longer be able to think. Years passed. Or minutes. He tried to open his eyes and couldn't. He couldn't move his arms or legs at all anymore either, if he even still had them. And yet...he lived. His awareness was there. Alone in the darkness. He remembered nothing of what it had been to be alive, yet he still lived. Forever. As nothing.
He lived.
____________________________________
well!
can't let that happen, I suppose
maybe robots or holodecks are the answer?
or uploading brains
to a robotic holodeck
or something
hahah
there is no hope
nuclear war is more likely
we will all metl
_________________________________________
Charles Horse missed the past.
__________________________________________
maybe something happy to finish with?
Nah!
b thing of the day is over
because I have nothing to say and no new way to say the things I used to say
it is inevitable now that the only thing in front of me is death
no invention
nothing
sorry
BUT WHAT IF
there was a different path
_____________________________________
He wished so hard for immortality that it came! Time froze. His clock would never move again. Yet he lived, in this moment, forever. He could only ever exist in this state. But he was immortal, and that was what mattered, right? He could not get out of bed. Could never leave this room again. He was stuck, but he still existed. He could move within the bed. He could masturbate, that would keep him busy. He couldn't eat ever again. He could sleep, but what was the point when he always woke up to the same moment? But he was immortal! That was good! He masturbated many times in the first years. Just endless wanking, with no need to ever stop or get up. It felt good! The immortal wanker. He had enough memories of girls to wank over. Sometimes did it to guys too, why not. Sometimes just wanked to the thought of wanking. To memories of wanks past. It got harder to remember what other people looked like as the years went on. He wished he could reacd his laptop from his bed, he had a lot of things saved on it. But no, he was alone here forever. Eventually he could only rememer the shapes of other humans but looking at the action figures on the bookshelf opposite his bed, but that gave a rather distorted view. The people he imagined were all made of plastic. He had nightmares about them. He started to fear those action figures, so rolled over to face the wall so he would never have to look at them again. Madness was taking him, he realised. Maybe it already had. He lay on his left side for many years. Decades? Centuries? He couldn't tell. He had nothing to think about. He didn't know how much time was passing. He was always in one moment, yet it last forever. Was this hell? At some point he tried to roll over again and found he was merging with his bed. He managed to get over to his back, then he remembered the evil action figures who still haunted his memories. So he lay there, staring at the ceiling for a few millennia. At one point he started laughing like a maniac when he realised he couldn't remember his own name. What was a name, even? Why would he ever need to know again? He eventually decided to roll to his right. He couldn't really remember why he wasn't supposed to do that. Some old fear. He would face his fear and maybe it would kill him. Then he found that his back was completely merged with his bed now. He was a bedman, not even human anymore. He hadn't been for a long time, if he ever was. What was he becoming? He didn't know. He reached down for his penis, as his arms could still move. He couldn't find it. It seemed like it had retreated up into his bed. Oh well. He had no use for it anymore. He closed his eyes, hoping they would fuse shut permanently. He could finally die, perhaps. If he became the bed he would no longer be able to think. Years passed. Or minutes. He tried to open his eyes and couldn't. He couldn't move his arms or legs at all anymore either, if he even still had them. And yet...he lived. His awareness was there. Alone in the darkness. He remembered nothing of what it had been to be alive, yet he still lived. Forever. As nothing.
He lived.
____________________________________
well!
can't let that happen, I suppose
maybe robots or holodecks are the answer?
or uploading brains
to a robotic holodeck
or something
hahah
there is no hope
nuclear war is more likely
we will all metl
_________________________________________
Charles Horse missed the past.
__________________________________________
maybe something happy to finish with?
Nah!
