Two years ago, I decided to try The Most Dangerous Writing App. I chose the 1667 words. Basically, I must type that much non-stop or everything will be deleted. Here are the 1667 words, which now makes me miss writing.

It’s funny how things just get slower when you listen. The theory of relativity shows us that our perception of time changes depending on our state. That state could be how much we attracting or rejecting things. The stronger your effect to your environment, the slower the time goes. This could be in the opposite way but what the fuck, I know I’m just typing right now to prevent all these from being deleted. Bu, why do we even try to protect things that doesn’t make sense at all? Why do we try to finish things we don’t really care about? Like we want them. Well maybe it’s about the writing itself and not what we do write. There’s a kind of soothing effect the way the words flow like it found a surface with no friction or whatever, it just goes all the way and flow to wherever fucking place it wants to go. Your fingers just keep moving like it knows everything about you. Even the keyboard knows everything about you. And you don’t. That’s the one of the most painful thing I think. Nah, wrong word. I just typed it because I can’t find the right word. Maybe the english language is too imperfect to be able to accommodate all emotions possible. So we choose a specific word. And that specific word is usually wrong. Is it? Haha, I was about to change the music but all these were almost deleted. It describes mostly how life works. You try to look in another direction and what you were doing slowly fades away like it was never there. But is that how it works? I really want to change the music. But there are some music we can’t turn off and need to listen to. We need to listen to somethings even if they fucking pierce the hell out of us. We listen. Like it’s the only music there is because deep inside, it’s the realest music in the world. Aside from love of course. Combine those together and we have a symphony, a masterpiece. And it will reverberate to the whole of us, our whole life. Because everything is just music and were all just trying to dance with each other. We don’t want to dance with other people of course. We badly want to dance with others. And the thing is sometimes we choose not to dance because were waiting for the right music. Or we choose not to listen to it. Like it doesn’t exist at all. Like we don’t. And we listen to any music that there is because fuck I can’t change the music because I already started typing. Around 4 times more words, 1200? Damn, I should have chosen 500 words. It’s exciting though. To finish something you stupidly started. And after reaching this amount of words, they slowly fade. Do they? Do you? Hahaha, do I still have anything to say? A lot actually but I can’t. Even in the keyboard, or even in my mind. I have that much control to repress the things that shouldn’t be. Even though it’s making noises inside, I can keep it silent. It feels like nothing and it also feels like I’m trying to slay dragons. So what ever, fuck this notifications that’s covering my screen. I can’t see. There. Going back to the dragons, they look friendly, yet I know they devour people with their nose. Better not let them know that there’s an outside world. They need to be hidden. Because we lie even to ourselves. We keep the things that we know shouldn’t exist just to let ourselves survive. Maybe the people who go crazy are those who let their dragons out. Maybe the most successful people also let their dragon out. It’s a mad choice. We can let them fly, we can let them fly us, or we can let them devour us. Who makes the choice? I don’t know. I’ve only seen my dragon on my dreams. I only saw one of it’s eyes and it’s stare burned me. Not me. It really burned everything. And I woke up. Then I find myself laying on a sofa, staring at a painting. That time I realized how scary paintings are because they don’t show you what they are. They show you what you see. And if what you see are the things that scares you most, every painting becomes either a work of art or a nightmare. It’s just divided by a very thin line that you can’t even see. You walk at it. You stand on it. And maybe if you keep walking, someday it will break. Maybe one day when you’re drinking beer on a random saturday night, it will break and you will have no idea because you’re too drunk. You’re too drunk of the world and you will be confused. You will decide on whether destroying it or making it drunk like you. You know those are two different things. Because everyone is just sane and everyone wants to live those kind of life. The life of not having to ride dragons. Of not being able to fight the darkest demons in the deepest dungeons. When did the gods die? Why did we stop throwing fireballs? I don’t know. When did I? Anyway, I’m tired of typing and I’m still on around 50%. And I might stop some seconds later and lose all of these. Why would I fear losing all of these anyway? None of these exist because once it reaches here, it’s no longer part of me. Damnnnn how many more words. I’m fucking tired. I want to stop so badly but my hands just keeps typing. Do I need to tell something? The truth. The truths are behind the dragon. And I chose not to let that dragon out. I need water. I really want to drink water. Maybe there are those days. You’re completely immersed in something that you forgot the most important things. You forgot to fucking walk on water. You need to walk on that water. Or drink it all. Wtf am I saying…. or should I say what the fuck am I saying, just to increase the number of words. Because that’s what I do. I cheat even to myself. It’s amazing though, because before I started, I thought there’s no way I’ll be able to write anything tonight. Yet right now I’m on 1000 plus words and still zombiely writing. I even made up a new word, zombiely. That’s how desperate I am to finish this. Imagine what happens if I become this desperate on all the things I want. But that just sound stupid. I should know that there are things, now matter how much you want it, you should not… Hahaha the dragon is coming out and itss…. no close it. I just tried to copy all these text but I think they already fixed it. There’s no way out. Either I reach the end of the tunnel or the tunnel dies here. I’m used to that anyway. It’s a matter of being not right and wrong. It will always be. Because there’s no such thing as right, or correct or true. It’s all just a part of us looking and things and perceiving them as something that we can comprehend. We are too weak to comprehend that all of these are just unreal. Nothing of these is real, we know that. But we still keep typing. We keep on fighting, typing even on the things that doesn’t even make sense. Where do we get the courage to stop? Does someone need to stop us? Or do we need to stop ourselves. Does the dragon even help in making the decision. Why are we so afraid of the dragon? Because we know it belongs in a completely different world. And were just weaklings who doesn’t even know how to stop. We don’t know how to give up on things that we started because somewhere were hoping. Were blindlessly, faithfully hoping that the dragon would actually come out without us actually letting it. We want the things that we want to crawl into us craving, craving to be wanted. But that may only happen if we give up. Should I? around 300 more words and typing this much makes me feel like shit. I mean I really want some water but I can’t. I can’t because I started something stupid and decided to keep it even if it’s starting to eat me alive. Why did I even keep this dragon inside my pocket? Why do we pick up things. Why do we pick them up try to keep them on the deepest parts of our humanity. Fucking humanity. Fucking mortals. I only chose to be mortal to be perfect. To experience everything. But every minute of the hell, every second I spend burning on the eternal fire I regret even going to hell. Yet somewhere inside I know it’s my choice. I understand why, why I kept myself under this burning world yet I shout. I shout at anything that can hear the dragon the let him out already. Because like me he is shouting in agony. He is laughing. And it’s kind of crazy, it is crazy. Because somewhere out there someone is taking your dragon. Or maybe not your dragon but the dragon you want. Why did you want dragons anyway? When they’re the things that you fear the most. You don’t know. You don’t fucking know anything. But type endlessly, one word by one hoping that it already ends without you giving up. You will continue living, transferring from one place to another… from heaven and into hell and from hell and into heaven. Until you find out there’s another place. There’s one more place and someday you’ll gonna find it. And in there you will look your dragon in the eye and tell it how much you loved hell, how much you loved heaven. And it will tell you.