/lit/ - Literature

I wish I could drop everything and travel and write perennially. I hunger for masterpieces. I exist in defiance. I strive for an impossible omniscience. No wonder it strikes me as crude that cheap facts stand in my way, clinging to me like a suit of dust. Release me, give me unlimited potential to pursue my powers rather than to claw through the arid styrofoam of normalcy to reach some hypothetical notion of freedom and I will make it known.

How I wish to see the Lie burn in sparks of stars and hellfire glory. How I wish to see it gargle torrents of blood before giving way to a pure sea. Instead I am surrounded by the inexorable power of falsehood, an empire of the false. The false is tremendously effectual.

--All is naught.