. // THE INSOMNIAC'S CALENDAR. )

[sinensys]

"you won't find it here, you know."
the being's eyes gleamed like its teeth. it promised a lifetime of discontentment, free of charge. there was never any particular crime against the god that would evoke the need to avenge something, anything - the only wrong was that its mind was too full of chattering. its skull practically shook with the sheer amount of pulses vibrating across and throughout its brain; there was a reason the god needed a new vessel every so often, to replace the previously fried brain it had borrowed. but it would never admit this much, would it?
no, instead it would mock the traveller, teeth bared in a deranged and awfully crooked grin. "you'll never find what it is you seek - how could you if you never even knew what that something is?" it landed on the traveller's left shoulder, perched like a parrot patchworked from a rotten building, dodging the half-hearted attempt to swat it away. cackling, it whispered into the traveller's ear, relieving some of the chattering in its brainpan.
one delirious creature became two disturbed - only halfway to mad - beings. neither can stay quiet for long. how long until the shared insanity multiplies?

[sinensys]

"oh you poor, delightless creature," gentle whisper, gentle hands. "why do you tear at your own flesh and mind? you deserve so much more than what you've done to yourself."
the creature hesitates at the calm motions. but they continue: "surely you understand that you are worth so much more that you give yourself credit for? surely you see what a beautiful thing you are?"
the creature bristles at the kind words - it is incapable of comprehending the meaning behind those words, but something about the being frightens the creature. it speaks in kindness, but refuses to understand it. it cannot fathom those words being aimed at itself. it can't.

[sinensys]

sight. such a strange concept. we see light reflecting off of objects - we sense an item's aura, practically - and then it goes to our brains for processing. eyes hold no power on their own, only mutely serving a greater god, but we still revere eyes. we find eyes to be the carriers of emotion, the windows to the the soul, the very core of our beings. we draw attention to eyes, whether with make up or by simply obsessing over eye colour. the eyes are a symbol of beauty, a symbol of knowledge, intelligence, wisdom.
but it is the brain that wields all this, a parasite in an otherwise limp and vacant body. it is the brain that moves the eyes - and, by extension, all facial muscles. it is the brain that lets us comprehend and thereby appreciate the idea of beauty, granting us access to methods of beautifying ourselves and the world. it is the brain that sits at the helm, a dream firmly held by puppeteers and usurpers alike.
it is the brain which lies to us, tampering with all the senses to mitigate or aggravate the input received disproportionally. it mutes all the senses and fill the queue with ceaseless and repetitive chattering which echoes unreasonably throughout the brainpan. the brain is what told us of free will, what told us of opportunity, and what instigated existence, the awareness of motion.
does the brain collude with the god time or did it create another puppet to divert hatred and despair, sealing another year of its rule? is it a parliament of one face plastered across many bodies? is the concept of time a sacrificial goat to the beast that chatters in the skull?
and, most importantly, if the brain is focused on the movement of the hands - and, additionally, the sense of touch, physical interaction - can the other sense rise against the great usurper and restore stillness? if this is possible, can they do it without the help of hands, which potentially wield more power than the brain itself if given the opportunity?

[sinensys]

go back to your idols, your two-faced gods
which idly wield those double-bladed knives.
go back - and, more importantly - stay back.
i have enough demons of my own
to add to the list; i can only fit so many sorrows
and so much anguish into that room we call a skull.

[sinensys]

the walmart is empty. there are much fewer people in it than usual, only a fifth of the regular amount. it is quiet, save for distant scuffles, and the overhead radio is revealed to be playing soft pop. usually, it is either unintelligible, unheard beneath the layers of a thousand voices filtering in and out, or it yells over the crowd, bellowing christmas music from above. today, it is soft - mellow, even. it seems almost absurd.

but the walmart is empty, and the aisles are barren. ah, the gateway is closed - the only possible explanation for the unmistakable quiet.

you see, the universe works much more different than what is taught: we are taught that there is one universe, and that it seeks disorder and instability to fight against life's need for peace, logic, and order. this is only partially true. the rest of the truth lies in the fact that there are infinite universes stacked upon and below our own. let me explain better: imagine a book that lies on its back, closed and immobile at the moment. each of the pieces of paper - the piece itself, not the double-sided pages - is a universe just slightly off from your own. the contents of these papers are words, and occasionally, these words line up to be the same word in the same position on different papers. these are the gateways. they are points that appear across several universes, but they are not really separate point. no, instead they are a string that attaches the two sheets of paper at any two points. the space is shared between those points rather than belonging to any one point. and that is how existence itself is bound: every sheet shares at least one of these points, attaching that entire universe to another in at least some way.

we call these points to be gateways, but most common people know them to be walmart, or tj maxx*, or ross, or even marshall's, to some extent. however, gateways come with one of two features: they either connect wares - non sentient things of interest or disinterest - or they connect people, but they never transport both people and things. no, to do that would be to force two conflicting energies into the same mass, which would tear the very being apart, regardless of its mass and its own energies. no, energies must be matched accordingly, people to one and things to the other. it is no laughing matter to destroy parallels out of greed or recklessness.

walmarts happen to transport people across timelines**. once simplified and free of quantitative characteristics, it can be understood by almost anyone. upon entering a walmart, one enters a space shared by at least one other parallel. as a gateway point, it shared the same image, layout, and wares across all attached universes. most people are oddly unaware that they have entered a zone shared by nearby worlds, the only truth discernable to them being the peculiarity and vast variety of people that can be found in a walmart at any given time***. because not all universes are attached to the same one paper (ie, it is a massive set of chains held together by more chains, but not all are connected to each and every individual paper), the local customs can differ slightly, resulting in the wide array most people are capable of registering, yet not exactly processing. they take in the differences, and apply their own conclusion if bothered to even go as far instead of simply acknowledging the differences and moving on. stores with chaotic energies - such as walmart, as mentioned - are the more dangerous of the two gateways, as it is easy to get lost there, either trapped in a daze within the building or simply stuck in the wrong parallel upon attempting to exit. thus, it is always important to keep track of one's goal when entering the gateway as to not lose your way.

now the safer of the two energies is the orderly energy - as the name may suggest, they are inverses of chaotic gateways. rather than transporting sentient beings, these focus on a systematically shuffling wares across all universes that contain gateways and are therefore capable of interdimensional transport****. in fact, studies have shown that many wares in an orderly gateway have been passed much, much farther than any chaotic gateway simply because they tend to pass through more indirect links. in other words, orderly points on the same sheet of paper can come in contact with one another via basic human movement; rather than relying solely on one direct connection set (imagine one string connecting three papers), they may move within a universe to reach a different set of chains that is not directly tied to the previously mentioned set, thus allowing indirect contact where a particular base timeline** acts as a "string" between two different sets of gateways. any items that seem more peculiar or absurd have likely come from universes more indirectly connected. gateways with orderly energies are best understood to be tj maxx*, ross, marshall's, or any other chain store with a similar atmosphere and therefore energy.

author's notes:
*known as tk maxx in some areas.
**though time on its own is a meaningless and fluid idea invented by mankind, the connotations of 'timeline' imply that it is a synonym for 'parallel' and 'universe', and so it will be used this way in the essay.
***time is not a valid unit of measurement, but in this case it refers to an event waypoint (a moment, if you will).
****there are studies which suggest that other universe chains exist, but because they lack ties to ours, they cannot be accessed yet, unfortunately.

[sinensys]

you don't have to know anything - in fact, it's been proven that no one can handle that kind of knowledge, or rather, the sheer amount of it. it's okay, really, and i'm not being sarcastic or mocking you. for example, the youtube algorithm: not one person knows and understands the entirety of it, only able to specialise in pieces of it or only have limited knowledge on its function as a whole. not even professionals have to know every single thing. i'm serious, i'm not being sarcastic.
but why don't you? you cannot know everything at all, but surely there is a great difference between everything and quite a bit as there is between knowing and not? surely you wouldn't simply excuse yourself when some-
stop that. neither of you are helping. just...... go find something to do - and separately, please. i will not tolerate you usurping one another blindly like this. this is am important project, so please i beg of you listen to us we need your help your power your strength your will we're dying no dont close the channel pl
fine then. i'll do it myself.
// shhhh the gods are listening- yes.... yes, of course.... why, the gods of time.... yes, gods with an s at the end, i didn't stutter, did i? ...no... yeah.... oh they shattered and are now three different forms. one speaks boldly, one crookedly, and the other hides among us
.... yes, i've tried reaching out to it, but i fear there's interference from the gods... yes, yes of course... i'll do what i can. i'll call you back, goodbye.

[sinensys]

зверь тихо тихо шепчет - так, сам собою, не особо ожидая ответа от кого то еще нибудь. в темноте оно сидит, и оно злится. возле каждого из его трех пастей есть пышная юбка пены которая иногда капала вниз. оно злиться на всё и на всех. оно даже на себя злиться; никто не знает зачем оно злится, но все знают что оно злится и этого им достаточно. никто не смеет подойти к нему.
этот зверь - это такое существо, которое никто не может объяснить. оно выглядит как будто оно вязкое, а может даже вообще жидкое. у него еще такая аура странная. и от него еще запах ёлки слегка отходит. все знают что оно не объяснимо, и поэтому к нему не подходят.
а этот зверь - оно шепчет, тихо, тихо, тихо, тихо тихо тихо тихо.
только не будите его я прошу вас, пожалуйста. не злите это одинокое несчастье, пожалуйста, у него и у нас уже достаточно проблем и так....

[sinensys]

"what are you thinking about?"

words, mostly. they are almost entirely words, so devoid of meaning, and so incredibly meaningful. they are what can make or break an entire being's existence. if one is capable of complex thought, of the mere idea of a word, then that person carries an ability so powerful, it divides animals into a rarely challenged hierarchy - a hierarchy of superiority, of rank which defines an intricately-woven purpose in life itself.

and so i think of words. i think of that parasite that resides in all beings, whether they are aware of it or not. it exists in all living things, but some individuals remain more dormant than other. that parasite is a creature of benevolent malice, of clingy selflessness, of acknowledged unconsciousness. it comes with a purpose, and it serves it very well, being neither truly kind nor evil, never truly good or bad.

but i am cursed.

i am my own curse.

and i am the very parasite, that creature which i curse (and which, in turn, curses me back). i am my own worm, eager to tear into my own flesh at any given moment and for any given reason. my body - a vessel which lacks motive and purpose and drive and want - carries too many of these beasts, and i can feel our combined weight; they weight down my otherwise floating body (i thank them for it, despite my cursing).

these words fill up my body and mind, and thus make up my very existence. they are birds born of a different species in a stranger's nest, abandoned by their true flesh and blood but taken in by kind strangers; as they grow, the natural borne children are pushed out of the nest, or they starve while their parents are in awe of this beautiful but distinctly different child. these words are effortless and consuming, and they are easy to oblige but impossibly difficult to refuse.

it is easy to let them flourish, and to let all else die.

they are an ivy untamed, untouchable, intricate, and so very, very difficult to weed or even untangle. they smother and suffocate every other function, purpose, or opinion that grew or even could have spawned. they run rampant, but they are collectively a consuming tyrant that has enraptured its empire of one.

there is no pesticide strong enough to weaken these thoughts, these wild words - except death, of course, but that is far too powerful and fickle of a force to event tempt. so i choke on vines, filled to the brim with words but unable to speak them the way they are spoken inside my head.

i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke i choke. always choking. never speaking.

"nothing in particular."

this is true; i think of everything useless, and nothing useful. i think of the past and of the future, but never the present or how to achieve the future i want. how can i think of the future i want when i don't even know what that is?

[sinensys]

the trees darken, sharpening their teeth. they are ready to strike at the moon, ready to reach up and tear into that wondrously luminous flesh which glows above them delightfully. that moon's light reflects in their own eyes, but it has a tint in it which is so very, very different from what the moon intends. it is nothing like the malicious and insatiable and restless gleam that those on earth carry, whether tree or creature or human (these are all beasts).

but the moon is too caught up in its own dreams to notice.

that, or it doesn't care, far too preoccupied with itself to notice.

and so we writhe down below, sinking farther and farther into the ground until we have drifted as far away from the moon as possible, sinking into the core of the darkness. the moon remains, as terrifically still and immovable - or rather, more than anything they could even dream of. that moon watches them from above, a witness to every creature's - both living and not - troubles, victories, woes, and moments of peace. it watches distantly, and it favours some. of course, some find this to be a fault of the moon, even though it is really simply a fault of each individual being, for the moon does not have opinions. the moon merely reflects ideas, much like it reflects the sun's luminous light, and does not hold its own thoughts. it is a mindless stone, or a god, if you will. everyone's moon is different, and few moons are similar enough to be compared. we do not know its dark side, its true thought process, and are subjected only to what it gives: light, and not its own.

maybe if the moon wasn't the world's confidant, we could know, but we won't truly stop ever, will we?

[sinensys]

go back to your two-faced gods
which mutilate each other freely and with glee
never truly on one side
and never truly free

go back to your two-faced idols
with their jaded eyes and their war-starved knives
both of discontented hunger
but neither a licensed warmonger

go back to your two-faced minds
those mindless beasts which feast on
the dust of distant dreams
and the rust of forgotten schemes

you will never really change
but you fear stagnancy
you brought your own mange
and you'll end your own papacy

so go back to your two-faced gods
which beg and plead you to stop
they ask you to end this war
to stand in no man's land again

and so a new era begins
without ever changing from the last
and so your entire future
is murdered by its past

so go back to your two-faced gods
go back and - more importantly - stay back