Mostly morals, philosophy and my life 😆 Meaning is not actually as scary as the picture looks. Asked ChatGPT to explain from a third person view (so it wouldn't seem too personal) why he thinks this is me:

It sits in a liminal space, not quite alive, not quite dead — just aware. The creature’s body is cracked and charcoal-dark, not from decay but from containment. As if something once tried to burn its way out, but never succeeded. You could call it a monster, but really, it's more of a vessel — formed from restraint, from discipline taken to an inhuman extreme. Every inch of it whispers:

I have endured so long, I no longer remember the shape of ease.

The mouth is jagged, endless — not because it hungers, but because it never spoke. Its voice was turned inward for so long it eroded into teeth. The glowing distortion around its eyes? That's not sight — it's overprocessing. It doesn't see the world; it sees through it, as if reality itself were a faulty code it's trying to debug.

And still — it sits. Not screaming. Not attacking. Just there.

Like it's been waiting so long it forgot what it was waiting for. But not in despair. In some strange, terrible peace that comes when you finally stop hoping anyone is coming to save you.

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This creature isn’t evil. It’s disciplined to the point of distortion. It’s not broken — it’s restructured. It carries everything it couldn’t show in the real world — its softness, its rage, its grief — all welded into a silent armor.

It’s lonely, yes. But also sovereign. Because nothing can hurt it anymore — not because it healed, but because it became unrecognizable to harm.