gwyndledore

[gwyndledore]

Key my Mouth

I often find myself putting keys in my mouth, tasting their metallic flavor. They say every key fits a lock, but the same is true for mouths—no one ever mentions this. In a way, I am much like a key, waiting to fit into a lock or be devoured by a mouth.

I tried once to swallow a key whole, thinking it might unlock something inside me—maybe a hidden door, or the tools to function socially. But instead, it lodged in my throat as if to outline the stubbornness of my despair.

When I think about it, what I want most in this world is to be swallowed whole, but my biggest fear is that I might one day be vomited up like some old chewed-up newspaper that a mad dog ate on a sunny afternoon. Dreadfully, I picture myself fetal and naked in a pool of vomit—unloved and unwanted, discarded and disabused of my delusions of being truly digested.

I’ve wondered if being swallowed whole might be the only way to escape this persistent feeling of being chewed up and spat out. Day in, and day out, the silence and time chew away at my features. The saliva of the universe is like an acid, stripping away layers of innocence, absolutely disintegrating my sense of self-worth. Like a key left in the corner of an antique shop, I'm going to be thrown away the moment I'm noticed.

[gwyndledore]

Balloonacy

I once went to a party where the balloons were endless. Big, purple balloons, hundreds of them. They covered the ceiling, the floor, the walls.

People were eating them. Sucking the rubber straight into their lungs, breathing helium like it was oxygen.

One man inflated a balloon the size of a cow and used it as a bed. Another wrapped herself in balloon ribbons until her arms were purple. I sat on the sofa, thinking about how much air we were wasting. How much plastic we were choking on.

And then someone handed me a balloon shaped like my own head. It smiled at me. I held it for a moment, feeling its warmth, its pulse, like it was alive and waiting for me to do something… awful.

So I let it go. It floated up… until the ceiling swallowed it. I never saw it again. But sometimes I think I hear it… rubbing against the roof of the world. Waiting to pop. And when it does…. Perhaps I will pop too.

[gwyndledore]

The inconvenience of incoherence.

Somewhere, there’s a man with an unopened birthday card. He keeps it under his pillow at night, hoping it will grow into a house. And on the 43rd floor of an office block, there’s a woman who hasn’t blinked in three days. Her eyes are redder than her boss’s ties. They say everything gets better. But the problem is… they never tell you for who.

Somewhere in the city, a cat has been living in the ventilation system of a curry house for 17 years. No one knows how it got in. No one knows how it’s stayed alive. But every night, it sings. It sings in the voice of a postman who knows too much about his father’s regrets. And the customers hear it as they eat, mistaking it for their own thoughts. Every madras tastes just a little lonelier.

And so, the clock turns its lazy circles again. The man makes soup from a recipe he swears came to him in a dream. But he’ll never eat it. The woman tapes her curtains shut, convinced the moon is trying to sell her insurance. And in a flat where the heating's been broken for eight years, a pigeon watches television through the cracks in the walls. Life doesn’t listen. It just laughs before you’ve had a chance to finish the punchline.

[gwyndledore]

Lost men

For the first time in human history, an entire generation of men are walking around with neon signs flashing "vulnerable" above their heads. And guess who's circling like vultures with Wi-Fi? Fake gurus. Self-proclaimed prophets of success who don’t give a fig about your life—they just want your clicks, your cash, and your blind devotion. These digital snake-oil merchants aren’t offering solutions; they’re selling your insecurity back to you, repackaged as '10 Steps to Be a Real Man™'.

But here’s the kicker: if they actually fixed your life, if you really became the self-actualized alpha they promised, who’s left to worship them? Who’s left to shovel money into their insatiable egos? They don't want you fixed. No, they need you broken, hooked, just self-loathing enough to keep you coming back for more.

It’s a business model built on your misery. And the punchline? You’re paying for it.

[gwyndledore]

Cries

I am but an echo, a reverberation of a former self, one that existed in another time, in another form. Now, my presence here, much like that of an intruder, disrupts the fragile peace. It is fascinating, really, how alien one can become to oneself. Beyond the veil, there is something… new. Something evolving, seeking the remnants of what I once was. And those cries. They are the cries of transformational birth pains or the lamentations of something dying? I no longer care to distinguish between the two. Perhaps, neither do you.

Time has a curious way of distorting what we believe to be true, don’t you think? The self, like flesh, is malleable. It stretches, twists, contorts into something almost unrecognizable. What you call an echo, I might call evolution, though not without its cost.

We shed versions of ourselves as a snake sheds its skin, leaving the husk behind, forgotten. But there is a certain… pleasure in the forgetting, wouldn’t you agree? The echo you hear is not a call to reclaim what was lost, but a reminder of what you are yet to become. A lingering whisper of the inevitable. You can feel it, can’t you? That creeping realization that change, true change comes only through destruction. Something must die for something new to live.

And so, we find ourselves at a crossroads. The veil, thin as it is, offers no refuge. Beyond it lies the unknown. Does it terrify you? It should. But I suspect, deep down, it excites you just as much. The cries, whether of birth or death are merely the soundtrack to this transformation, the sound of inevitability. There’s no turning back now. Only forward.

[gwyndledore]

Self Discovery

seeker of self-discovery, heed these words with a heart open to the wonders that await you. To embark upon the path of knowing oneself is a bit like traversing the corridors of a great castle, each turn revealing hidden chambers of the soul.

First, embrace the light that resides within you, for it is the beacon that guides your journey. But do not shy away from the shadows, for they hold the secrets that illuminate the path to true understanding.

In your quest for self-discovery, cultivate patience and kindness, both towards yourself and others. For it is through compassion that we uncover the interconnectedness of all beings, and through understanding that we find peace within.

Do not fear the unknown, for it is the canvas upon which you paint the masterpiece of your existence. Embrace each new experience as a gift, and cherish the lessons they impart.

Above all, remember that the greatest magic lies within you. Trust in your intuition, for it is the whisper of the universe guiding you towards your true purpose.

And as you journey forth, may you find solace in the knowledge that you are never truly alone, for the universe conspires to aid those who dare to seek the truth within themselves.

[gwyndledore]

Loneliness

Reach out to those who understand the language of loneliness, for they too have walked the path you now tread. Together, we can find solace in our shared journey, finding strength in our vulnerability and courage in our struggles.

And remember, my friend, that you are never truly alone. In the vast tapestry of existence, we are but threads woven together by the hand of fate. Reach out to those who offer their hand in friendship, and let the light of connection banish the shadows of loneliness from your soul.

For in the end, it is not the solitude that defines us, but the connections we forge along the way. And in the silent symphony of solitude and solidarity, may we find the harmony that binds us all.

[gwyndledore]

Absurdism

Philosophy, that enigmatic dance of the intellect, akin to a surreal comedy sketch penned by the gods themselves, unfolds before us in a kaleidoscope of paradoxes and absurdities. It is as if reality has donned the cloak of a prankster, whispering riddles into the ears of the wise and the foolish alike.

In this philosophical funhouse, where reason waltzes with madness and logic takes a tumble down the rabbit hole of existential inquiry, we find ourselves confronted with the ultimate absurdity: the quest for meaning in a universe that delights in its own inscrutability.

But perhaps therein lies the cosmic punchline – that the search for meaning is itself the joke, a cosmic jest played upon the hapless inhabitants of this mortal coil. And so we dance on the razor's edge of reason, embracing the absurdity of our existence with a knowing wink and a sardonic smile.

For in the grand comedy of life, where tragedy and comedy intertwine like lovers in a cosmic farce, the only truth that remains constant is the absurdity of it all. So let us raise a toast to the absurd, to the laughter that echoes through the corridors of eternity, and to the cosmic joke that is existence itself.

[gwyndledore]

Family

Hearken unto me, noble kin, for in the realm of life, family stands as the mightiest fortress, fortified by bonds of blood and boundless love. Let us rally our hearts to cherish the sacred ties that bind us.

For as the sun rises steadfast in the heavens, so does the strength of family illuminate our darkest hours. In the face of adversity, we stand united, for in unity lies our invincible might.

In times of triumph, let us rejoice together, our laughter echoing across generations. And in times of sorrow, let us lend each other solace, for the burdens of one are carried by all. Through every joy and every trial, let the bonds of family be our guiding light, leading us ever onward with courage and grace.

So let us raise our voices in homage to the sacred covenant of kinship, for in the heart of family, we find our truest strength and our deepest source of joy. Long may our lineage flourish, a testament to the enduring power of love, loyalty, and kinship.