Joanna Jeanine’s Diary Entry #12

Every fleeting moment weighs heavily on me, an overwhelming force that demands my attention. There's a cruel fascination in its weight—a relentless ache that pulls me deeper into darkness. Days don’t just pass; they impose themselves on me with ruthless intensity, harshly seductive, dragging me into an endless, shadowy abyss. I wake each day with despair etched into my face, but beneath it, I hold a quiet, unwavering acceptance—a surrender to the emptiness I cannot escape. I am a marionette, controlled by unseen, indifferent forces that dominate my every move, yet I find a dark thrill in submitting to these strings, in relinquishing control. My actions and choices are mere illusions—fleeting flashes of light and shadow—guiding me into a tragic, predetermined dance. The vast silence of space is cold and unmoving, an indifferent giant that ignores my suffering and the quiet pull of my despair. I once believed persistence could forge purpose or meaning. Still, that hope has been shattered—replaced by stark, unflinching truth: there is no hidden meaning, only a consuming emptiness that is both terrifying and oddly comforting in its hold. The only reality is this lonely stage, a barren arena where life plays its pointless, relentless drama—unnoticed, unworthy of attention, yet hauntingly intimate in its solitude. I keep moving, aware and resigned—trapped in the darkness that dominates all. But I don’t always believe that to be the case. There’s a lot of good; I need to explore it.