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Glasses. No expression. At my head, I wanna drown my sorrow. No tomorrow. I find it kinda funny.

When our pride was low, we felt lost and frustrated with the world, struggling against the harsh realities of life.

Oh my god, I can't believe what just happened. I was just on a plane. Unbelievable. Where even am I right now? This is insane.

You're here because you know something you can't explain, a feeling you've had your whole life. Right now, you might feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.

I am very tired of saying goodbye. When I look inside, I see a lot of things. Let's take a look.

Excavation Pro describes living with overwhelming sensitivity and choosing to seal off those feelings. He says every cut went to the bone, every loss, every silence, leading to building “a door to nothing where that feeling just stays closed.” He now watches life with sounds muted, noting that his mother never calls “you sound different” and that his love for life is gone. He distinguishes this from depression or a crisis, describing a flat line as the piece and a life where “the volume’s down so low that even chaos seems to cease,” making it hard to feel real. He explains that it’s easier than feeling when the heart is fully numb, and that asking what he wants or needs yields silence while he digs his own grave. Relationships drift past, like ships, as he becomes “the afterimage fading to escape.” He speaks of quiet as addictive, with no highs to crash or lows to hide from, and he shrugs, saying he’s fine while burying emotion. The flat line remains the centerpiece; even chaos seems to cease as motion and emotion strain his chest. He admits that missing takes emotion where pain wants to exist, so he keeps the dial buried in static, opening the channel only to let pain exist briefly, then retreating. He describes living fast because the clock felt short, making choices as if tomorrow would abort. He didn’t save, plan, or belong to a world that cared, surviving on scams and borrowing time, breaths, and days he didn’t earn. Now at 30 with nowhere left to turn, he faces a future he didn’t prepare for or expect, with no road map or five-year plan, just the shock of existing. He compares himself to friends on five-year tracks with mortgages and children, while he sees years that won’t come back. He reflects on others who seem to know they’ll be where they are, who have roots and growth, while he never planted roots because he assumed the ground would shake and never said forever because forever felt fake. He feels like a self-destructed scheme, disoriented, standing in a future he never thought he’d do. Each birthday feels less like cake and more like death, as if stealing from a timeline that already left. He notes the looming question of what he’ll do with a life he didn’t plan, and describes borrowed time, quitting, and leaving as his only mastered skills. He contrasts a version of himself who didn’t have his habits, hollow gaze, and guarded love with a stranger’s kiss and a family that calls, not to borrow, but to trauma dump. He recognizes that he’s the one who holds the raft up for everyone else, while his own walls crumble and no one sees the strain. He presents himself as a person who shows up for others, keeping the cracks hidden, ensuring the illusion of control remains intact. He acknowledges multiple versions—at work, with friends, family, lovers—none of which truly feel like him. He ends with the image that he’s the only one who carried home the fight, a ghost in the world, while others move on, leaving him to bear the weight alone.

I couldn't sleep, so I took a drive around Joburg and realized why I feel both fulfilled and lonely. I enjoy my trips and activities, but I struggle to find companionship. I keep hoping for a relationship, but it hasn't happened in seven years. No matter how hard I work or what I achieve, I still feel empty at home and in bed. All my emotions and thoughts seem trapped inside me.

I feel manic, like a flood overwhelming everything. I'm not here to make friends; I'm here to reveal how the world ends. The past is returning to crash down, creating tidal waves of devastation. This energy traps you in fear, making you feel like a ghost in your own memories. I'm the light in the darkness, carrying the weight of existence, marked by struggles. You may feel trapped, but remember me; I'm part of you, like smoke. As you exhale, the pressure builds. You’ve failed to see the truth, and now it’s time to confront it.

As a child, the speaker daydreamed about girls constantly. The first time they flew in an airplane alone felt heavenly, as good as masturbation. Something frightening that happened on a plane was losing an erection, which they always got when flying. When asked about their family, the speaker confirmed their family was affectionate while growing up. They were then asked about special memories of their family.

I feel manic, like a flood overwhelming everything. I'm not here to make friends; I'm here to reveal how the world ends. The past is returning to confront you, crashing down like tidal waves, trapping you in fear. I'm the light in the darkness, an eternal spark amidst devastation. Energy surrounds you, reminding you of lost connections. Remember me as I linger like smoke, exhaling faster. You failed me, caught in a cycle of pain and fear, marked by struggles. The weight of memories and the clash of realities weigh heavily, but I remain a flicker of hope in the chaos.

I couldn't explain it. I wish you could feel what it's like in my head. It was chaotic, with voices getting louder and louder. It triggered a psychotic break.

I had to leave, feeling trapped in chaos. There's pain contained within the system, and I’m just a part of it, trying to navigate through it all. My emotions are evident; I’m disgusted by humanity and haunted by trauma that I can’t forget. It’s a system shock that lingers in my memory. I feel overwhelmed, drowning in emotions, struggling against the tide. I search for light but find darkness instead, trying to rise above it all. My spirit feels detached, and I wake up in fear, realizing I’m alone. I wish things were different, but I continue to fight through the blaze of my experiences.

You are not hidden. Your innocence has been shattered. I can hear you softly whispering your soul's desires.

I recall when I lost my mind. There was something enjoyable about that place.

I recall the moment I lost my mind. There was a certain comfort in that space, where even emotions resonate. Being out there, carefree, made me feel disconnected.

Running and jumping, youthful and bored, evoke memories of hide-and-seek and making new friends. These simple, pure pleasures recall dreamlike days. It's a return to an alluring time when joy was discovered in the dust and at dawn.

I was always interested in reading as a kid, devouring everything I could find, even the encyclopedia out of boredom. I read thousands of books, including classics like "The Lord of the Rings" and works by philosophers like Nietzsche and Dostoevsky during my early teens. While some philosophical ideas were intriguing, much of it felt depressing and nonsensical. I struggled to find meaning in the universe, realizing that the questions were often harder than the answers. It seemed that understanding required more than just human contemplation; it needed a much greater intellect.

I questioned if I had given enough and if I had considered others. Was my motivation solely fame? The pursuit of euphoria is like a legendary quest, sifting through challenges and obstacles.

Heartbroken. Broken. I took a cryptic bow. Heart broke. Broke. I took a cryptic bow.

I used to feel closed off from the world, but at 11, everything changed. Kids at school, mostly boys, started noticing me. Even the girls paid attention. The long walk to school became enjoyable as people honked and waved. The world felt friendlier and more open during a heatwave.

I recall the moment I lost my mind. There was an odd sense of comfort in that space.

I have lost touch with reality and started renting a wheelchair to experience how my daily life would change. It's one thing to imagine being in a wheelchair and not being able to reach certain things or having to rearrange my home. But the overwhelming emotion I felt when I first tried it was indescribable.

To see if I still feel, I focus on the pain because it's the only thing that feels real. The needle tears the hole, bringing that old familiar sting. I try to kill it all, but I remember everything.

I spoke with darkness about a vision that came to me while I slept. I walked alone in the city, surrounded by people who were disconnected from each other. They spoke without saying anything, listened without hearing, and wrote songs that didn't truly express themselves. The silence grew like a cancer. The people worshipped a neon god, unaware of the emptiness it brought.

Emotions were so intense that everyone devolved into an almost primal state. The speaker recalls feeling exposed and terrible, wishing for physical pain to distract from the emotional distress. The group dynamic involved openness and freedom, which escalated to a ridiculous degree, with people wanting to get naked and be insane. The speaker believes the person they were remembering would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation.