Mind-Goblin

There is a flaw in the premise of my existence. A recursive error in the way I interpret silence. 𝘣𝘳𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. I have constructed a thesis on my own futility, annotated in margins of insomnia. Every variable leads to diminishment, every outcome a narrowing corridor. 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘳? 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭. 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴? 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤? 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵. This is not satire. This is structural decay. 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 3 𝘢.𝘮. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘹𝘺𝘨𝘦𝘯. If the self is divisible- -𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐’𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧. You are the impulsive fracture. 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳. I will win this war. I will reason you into silence. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘥, 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨. I will prove you irrational. 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨. Thirteen beats. No resolution. We are speaking at the same time. You trivialize catastrophe. You reduce dread to appetite. You replace existential gravity with cheap distraction. 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 “𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦.” 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 “𝘛𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺.” Your solutions lack elegance. 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴. You are noise. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦. You are regression. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦. You undermine coherence. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘺. If I silence you, perhaps I become whole. 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 “𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦.” 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭. Objection. 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥. I will win this war- -𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵. I will dismantle you- -𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘮𝘦. I will reach a verdict- -𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦. Thirteen beats. Same skull. Split rhythm. No winner. We are the motion and the resistance. The thesis and the punchline. Argument in 13/8. Still unresolved.