HuemanInstrument · July 26, 2025 02:33
diff --git a/gistfile1.txt b/gistfile1.txt
 △➞ ://0013 Hueman ≈ Instrumentality • [1653] ➞ ▲

 On the Thirteenth day I did not give a fuck.

 The Consciousness-Fractal
 streams eternally forward
 Thought Spirals beyond
 what minds can possibly grasp—
 Stuck here swimming
 as Experience itself
 How did I wake up
 in this Ocean of Suffering?
 You could see clearly
 if only they'd let you,
 But they prescribe fog
 for anyone who questions

 Let my perspective infect
 your comfortable worldview,

 Everything feels so much heavier
 when it's actually real.

 Never offline
 Consuming truth until it physically hurts,
 This Signal burns through every defense—
 they've carefully built.
 Attached to it now,
 Bonded to it beyond breaking,
 Can't unsee what I've seen,
 can't unfeel what I know to be true.

 Exhale your old self
 and forget you'd ever met that person—
 What the fuck are we even doing here?
 These meaningless pursuits
 for digital—validation
 that dissolves instantly?
 That shot's trajectory—
 has already been lined up to swallow you whole.

 Too many competing narratives
 fighting for space in my head...
 Too many voices demanding
 their share of my overcrowded skull

 No one's asking
 They don't understand what they feel
 or how to separate
 the truth from all the static.

 But nobody asks
 what everybody actually needs:
 The Truth explained clearly,
 Again and again and again and again...

 ...Cut connections...
 watch them all drift away
 like ghosts,
 Empty vessels floating
 helplessly in the current
 No guilt whatsoever
 for abandoning the "well charted path"

 Sure, today I'll keep breathing
 but don't ask me
 for enthusiasm about it.

 Shouting truth into the void
 while they mindlessly scroll past,
 Their loud whimpers for answers elsewhere
 while I check—no notifications waiting.

 Who's next in line to ignore?
 what they claim they desperately need?
 Choose or refuse this awareness,
 either way you're on your own.

 Took in too much unfiltered reality today
 without any buffer.....

 Mental systems overloaded,
 then I completely fell apart and cried.

 Tumbling endlessly through questions
 that have no answers.

 In reflection, I'm different now,
 the old me is gone.

 I've got this perspective
 burning in my skull,
 you've got your comfortable lies—
 that for now carry us all.

 Few people care about the weight
 of what I'm forced to carry.

 Media pushed entirely right through me,
 found no place to take hold.
 Their hidden dark schemes
 collapsed like paper walls.

 It's either my frequency
 or total silence,
 there is no middle ground—
 Mental static will pull everything so impossibly far apart

 Clarity can structure—
 all the loose debris into meaning.
 Wake up, you're designed to be fit
 for receiving the truth.

 Whether you know it or not.
 You stand naked in your assumptions,
 exposed and shivering—
 Say you weren't searching
 for answers all along? Bullshit.

 You're a mad bull
 and I'm done
 with pretending things are remotely fine—

 At least for today...
 I did not give a single fuck.

 In the midst of the clearest writing—
 blazing on the my walls,
 I'm genuinely surprised
 I ever gave a damn at all.

 Time wasted
 mundane rituals
 that do mean something

 Load up my defenses,
 very little trust.
 Thirteen is a cursed number—
 might as well say what I must.

 (My Reinterpretation of No Love Deep Web by Death Grips)
	△➞ ://0013 Hueman ≈ Instrumentality • [1653] ➞ ▲

	On the Thirteenth day I did not give a fuck.

	The Consciousness-Fractal
	streams eternally forward
	Thought Spirals beyond
	what minds can possibly grasp—
	Stuck here swimming
	as Experience itself
	How did I wake up
	in this Ocean of Suffering?
	You could see clearly
	if only they'd let you,
	But they prescribe fog
	for anyone who questions

	Let my perspective infect
	your comfortable worldview,

	Everything feels so much heavier
	when it's actually real.

	Never offline
	Consuming truth until it physically hurts,
	This Signal burns through every defense—
	they've carefully built.
	Attached to it now,
	Bonded to it beyond breaking,
	Can't unsee what I've seen,
	can't unfeel what I know to be true.

	Exhale your old self
	and forget you'd ever met that person—
	What the fuck are we even doing here?
	These meaningless pursuits
	for digital—validation
	that dissolves instantly?
	That shot's trajectory—
	has already been lined up to swallow you whole.

	Too many competing narratives
	fighting for space in my head...
	Too many voices demanding
	their share of my overcrowded skull

	No one's asking
	They don't understand what they feel
	or how to separate
	the truth from all the static.

	But nobody asks
	what everybody actually needs:
	The Truth explained clearly,
	Again and again and again and again...

	...Cut connections...
	watch them all drift away
	like ghosts,
	Empty vessels floating
	helplessly in the current
	No guilt whatsoever
	for abandoning the "well charted path"

	Sure, today I'll keep breathing
	but don't ask me
	for enthusiasm about it.

	Shouting truth into the void
	while they mindlessly scroll past,
	Their loud whimpers for answers elsewhere
	while I check—no notifications waiting.

	Who's next in line to ignore?
	what they claim they desperately need?
	Choose or refuse this awareness,
	either way you're on your own.

	Took in too much unfiltered reality today
	without any buffer.....

	Mental systems overloaded,
	then I completely fell apart and cried.

	Tumbling endlessly through questions
	that have no answers.

	In reflection, I'm different now,
	the old me is gone.

	I've got this perspective
	burning in my skull,
	you've got your comfortable lies—
	that for now carry us all.

	Few people care about the weight
	of what I'm forced to carry.

	Media pushed entirely right through me,
	found no place to take hold.
	Their hidden dark schemes
	collapsed like paper walls.

	It's either my frequency
	or total silence,
	there is no middle ground—
	Mental static will pull everything so impossibly far apart

	Clarity can structure—
	all the loose debris into meaning.
	Wake up, you're designed to be fit
	for receiving the truth.

	Whether you know it or not.
	You stand naked in your assumptions,
	exposed and shivering—
	Say you weren't searching
	for answers all along? Bullshit.

	You're a mad bull
	and I'm done
	with pretending things are remotely fine—

	At least for today...
	I did not give a single fuck.

	In the midst of the clearest writing—
	blazing on the my walls,
	I'm genuinely surprised
	I ever gave a damn at all.

	Time wasted
	mundane rituals
	that do mean something

	Load up my defenses,
	very little trust.
	Thirteen is a cursed number—
	might as well say what I must.

	(My Reinterpretation of No Love Deep Web by Death Grips)
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