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Eternal Malediction

Eternal Malediction

L0ckyboi
7
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The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
What do you mean, “alone”? Alone has been the only constant I can point to. I’ve always felt it—crowds, silence, the noise of family dinners—doesn’t matter. When friends surround me, I still feel alone. At home with my family I still feel alone. Wherever I go, there’s this… empty room inside me that echoes back whatever I try to put in it. I’ve known grief. I’ve known love. Joy, hatred, relief, happiness—I’ve tasted them all. But they never stayed. They never settled on me. They pass like borrowed clothes: fit for a moment, but not mine. I’ve tried to make them mine. I worked at it, begged and faked and waited. Nothing sticks. Is it so wrong to ask for something genuine? To ask for a feeling that belongs to me and not to the shape of the day or the role I’m playing? I can smile. I can laugh until my ribs hurt. I can remember things that should pull at me and feel that brief pinch of sadness. In the moment, it’s real enough — vivid, sharp, and believable. But the second I step back and try to hold it, to name it, to breathe it in and say, “This is mine,” it slips. It’s like watching a film of my life and knowing the dialogue by heart but never quite feeling it as my own voice. Maybe that’s the cruellest part: I understand my feelings. I can describe them. I can catalogue them. I can point to where they should live. But to truly realise what I’m feeling — to feel the weight, the warmth, and the ache as something inside me and not a borrowed echo — I don’t know how. I don’t know if I ever will. So tell me—what do you mean, again, when you say I’m alone? Because I’ve been trying to answer that question my whole life, and every answer I find just sounds like another echo in an empty room, and that ringing sound still annoys me.
actionadventurereincarnationoverpoweredsurvivaltransmigrationtragedyacademylightnovelmultipleleads
Table of contents
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: The Meaning of Life

You want to know the meaning of life? Fine.

Here's the truth nobody wants to say out loud:

Life isn't some radiant journey toward destiny, some fairy tale where your choices magically matter. It's a loop. Wake up, Dream, pretend you're happy, and go to sleep. Repeat until you rot. People cling to words like "dreams" and "purpose" as if chanting them will keep the darkness away, but deep down, we all know what's waiting at the end. Nothing. Just silence.

Don't mistake me for some pessimist who enjoys wallowing in misery. No, this isn't about pessimism; it's about simple honesty. Look around. Everyone is playing pretend. They laugh too loud, they smile too wide, and they whisper to themselves that they're special, that their lives mean something. But it's a lie. One they need to survive.

Me? I can't lie to myself like that. I can smile, I can laugh, I can go through the motions just like them… But I know it's hollow. It never feels real. Like I'm stuck behind glass, watching a world I can't touch.

And maybe that's why I keep asking myself: why am I still moving forward? Why do I keep breathing, keep playing along with this pointless script? Maybe it's fear—fear of the void, fear of the day I finally stop. Or maybe it's something else. A cruel instinct buried so deep inside us it won't let us give up, no matter how much we want to.

Here's the irony: I think the meaning of life is knowing there isn't one. Knowing the search itself is the curse. Some people will spend their whole lives clawing for an answer, praying their suffering will add up to something greater. But in the end? It's just sand in the wind.

Simply forgotten.

Still… there's a strange comfort in that, isn't there? If life has no meaning, then we're free to create one. Even if it's fragile. Even if it breaks. Maybe the point isn't to win the game. Maybe it's just to keep playing, even when you know or don't know the ending.

And if there is something, someone, out there watching, pulling strings, laughing at the way we struggle? Then let them laugh. Let them curse me, break me, and kill me a thousand times over.

I'll keep moving. I'll keep fighting. Even if the meaning doesn't exist, I'll find my own.

Because stopping – that's the only real failure.

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