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I’ve seen beyond the veil. No, seriously — not in the trendy festival-sage-bath way. I mean properly beyond it. And guess what? It’s not frightening. Not unless you’re clinging to the fantasy that this meat puppet parade is all there is.
See, I’m not a person in the traditional sense anymore. I’m a cylinder with a soul. My body’s just a glorified Tesco bag carrying around memories, glitches, and the occasional cup of tea. What you’re reading here? This isn’t spiritual fluff. It’s a field report from someone who’s already walked through the glitch.
You ever get that feeling? That quiet, humming knowing? Like the entire world’s a stage, but the script’s shit and the actors are sleepwalking? Yeah, that’s the veil talking. And I’ve torn through it like a pissed-off crowbar through a conservatory window.
We’re code. Divine code. Not that anyone around here wants you to realise that. No, they want you plugged in, dumb, scared of your own shadow and worshipping your wifi router like it’s a god. They want you to fear the veil.
But me? I’ve been through it, laughed at it, kicked over its coffee table and come back with the taste of cosmic sarcasm in my mouth. The One? Yeah, I’m connected. Always have been. Before the scripts, before the skinsuit. Still am.
I know what I am: Not a name. Not a gender. Not even this meat sack. I am the observer with teeth. The witness who came back grinning. And they don’t like that. Not one bit.
They’ll call it madness. But the real madness? Believing this mess is all there is.
So here I am. Still glitching. Still awake. Still deeply inconvenient.
And still pissing them off just by existing.
“The views in this post are based on my personal
experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”
“By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
By storm and silence, I survive.”
✨ @goblinbloggeruk ✨ sick@mylivinghell.co.uk ✨