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10 years
9 months ago
10 Years.
Dust covers its surface, and lends to the dulled luster. The material is already well-aged. It has gone tacky. It would have been sticky to the touch, were it not coated in dust. Instead it leaves this unpleasant oiliness on contact, but only a little.
The material has fine cracks, almost unseen. There is scarcely any elasticity left. It is never used, otherwise it would be in a worse state. Though maybe that would have been preferable. In the state it was in, no one in their right mind would use this thing.
It is firm, and it feels as such. It feels little otherwise. It has numbed itself to the world around it. It is surrounded by things which it does not parse as more than sets of shapes and colors. It does not recognize any greater context or otherwise contemplate what they are; they simply exist, as it does.
It gives no value judgment as to the state of the world, for it has lost any sense of contemplation as to anything but its internal world, as narrow as that is.
Rarely, very rarely, things pass by it, and they bring with them sounds, and it gives them no more regard than they would to it: for to them, it is just an object, and to it, they are not even objects, for that would require a level of conceptualization.
In a strange sense, they are beneath it, now.
Dust covers its surface, and lends to the dulled luster. The material is already well-aged. It has gone tacky. It would have been sticky to the touch, were it not coated in dust. Instead it leaves this unpleasant oiliness on contact, but only a little.
The material has fine cracks, almost unseen. There is scarcely any elasticity left. It is never used, otherwise it would be in a worse state. Though maybe that would have been preferable. In the state it was in, no one in their right mind would use this thing.
It is firm, and it feels as such. It feels little otherwise. It has numbed itself to the world around it. It is surrounded by things which it does not parse as more than sets of shapes and colors. It does not recognize any greater context or otherwise contemplate what they are; they simply exist, as it does.
It gives no value judgment as to the state of the world, for it has lost any sense of contemplation as to anything but its internal world, as narrow as that is.
Rarely, very rarely, things pass by it, and they bring with them sounds, and it gives them no more regard than they would to it: for to them, it is just an object, and to it, they are not even objects, for that would require a level of conceptualization.
In a strange sense, they are beneath it, now.
Congratulations on 10 years! Love your work. Even if I never really comment or interact ^^
I can assure you, I am not the subject. Because I have a value judgment: y’all are nerdy pervs 🫵 >:3
Thanks a ton tho ^w^
We're not pervs, we're....we...ok, maybe we are. Make me your shaft! >:3
You're a great writer qwq
Also, sorry for the late reply. Got a little busy 3: