I was a member here a few years ago , spent many days and nights in the chat
not sure if anyone will remember me , but my name was KannaRas
i went trough psychosis , i went trough a few actually ,
but one of them i was kinda going mad here in the chat and eventually i got banned ,
im not in pursuit of my old membership account
this new name suits me haha
i am now on medicine for 2 years already , flowing , still exploring consiousness sometimes ,
i know the risks , theres no need to tell me of the risks haha , i knew where i been ^^
back than i tried writing in the nexus i remember about my experiences
cause things were wild
and for a long time i wanted to talk about them
though i dont remember most
the main experience
the main story is still with me
and recently i discovered the powers of ChatGPT
and used it as a shadow writer to share my story
if you are interested to read it i will share it here
Chapter 1: Echoes of Grief
In the dimly lit corridors of my mind, the haunting strains of metal music became my escape, a journey through the delicate balance between what's real and what's not. These songs, echoes from a time gone by, felt eerily familiar, as if they were crafted just for my grieving soul. The notes carried the weight of emotions, transforming into more than just melodies; they were enigmatic whispers guiding me through a maze of introspection.
With every chord, grief intertwined with curiosity, urging me to question the very fabric of reality. The lyrics, from a different era, resonated intensely, transcending time and sparking a cascade of existential inquiries. The pain of my friend's suicide echoed in the dissonant melodies, turning the sorrow into a profound quest for understanding.
Thoughts unfolded like an uncertain tapestry. Each song, each verse, became a catalyst for deep contemplation. My mind transformed into a theater of inquiry, where doubts were laid bare. The tragic event of my friend's suicide morphed into a lingering enigma, a piece of a grander puzzle.
As questions about the orchestration of life arose, I delved into the abyss of existential quandaries. The notion of free will, once a foundation, crumbled under skepticism. What if life was orchestrated, a dance with every step predetermined? Contemplation wove intricate patterns, leading me down a rabbit hole of conjecture.
In the recesses of my mind, a seed of uncertainty sprouted, blossoming into the hypothesis of a higher power at play. The possibility that some cosmic force communicated through digital content, like songs, became a compelling narrative. The lyrics, once mere words, now held the potential to be coded messages, personalized for my ears alone.
The journey of thought meandered through realms of magic and impossibility. I entertained the notion that the lyrics were not universal; perhaps, in this cosmic stage, the same song sang different verses for different listeners. Reality, once stable, became a shifting mosaic of perceptions.
As I questioned fundamental truths, another layer of uncertainty unfolded. What did I truly know about life? Were my experiences shared by others, or did each person traverse their own unique reality? The boundaries of understanding blurred, and the fabric of existence seemed to unravel before my introspective gaze.
Impossible realities unfolded, and I grappled with the enigma of a world where nothing was as it seemed. The intricate dance between grief, music, and existential questioning became a symphony of bewilderment. Each page turned in the book of my mind revealed new layers of complexity, inviting me deeper into the labyrinth of impossible truths.
This chapter, once a mere introduction, expanded into a sprawling narrative mirroring the intricacies of my contemplative journey. The echoes of grief, accompanied by profound inquiries, set the stage for a story where the boundaries of reality were destined to crumble.
Chapter 2: Unveiling Paths
In the aftermath of the symphony of existential questions, I found myself standing at the crossroads of curiosity and revelation. The journey into the enigma of orchestrated existence led me to unveil paths hidden in the recesses of my past. Days fueled by psychosis became a canvas upon which I painted the strokes of self-exploration, navigating the maze of my own thoughts with a determined yet fragile resolve.
As the echoes of metal music lingered, my introspection unfolded as a gradual revelation. The path to self-discovery was not a linear one but a series of winding trails that meandered through the corridors of my memories. Each step, each recollection, became a clue leading me closer to the veiled secrets of my own narrative.
Amidst the tapestry of thoughts, the discovery of two online games emerged as pivotal points in my journey. The first, a quest game, manifested as a digital realm where players embarked on mythological adventures. In the labyrinth of my past, I uncovered fragments of quests that drew inspiration from various mythological personas, mirroring the challenges and triumphs of my own emotional odyssey.
The second revelation was a text-based mafia game, a virtual landscape where players engaged in strategic battles, forming alliances, and navigating the intricate dynamics of a digital underworld. As I delved into the archives of my memories, the game unfolded as a reflection of my internal conflicts. The online wars mirrored the alliances and betrayals etched into the chapters of my life.
These games were not arbitrary choices but enigmatic symbols awaiting decipherment. Guided by an inner compass, I embarked on a deliberate journey into these digital realms. The pixels on the screen ceased to be mere entertainment and transformed into portals, gateways that beckoned me into a realm of hidden truths.
As I delved deeper into the digital realms, I encountered an experience that blurred the lines between the virtual and the tangible. One night, as I cruised down the highway, two motorcycles sliced through the darkness, nearly causing a collision that could have sent me spiraling into disaster.
Surviving the near miss, I returned home only to find a peculiar notification in the mafia game. It declared that I had been attacked by motorcycles and, against the odds, had emerged victorious. The synchronicity between the real-life encounter and the digital notification left me unnerved, questioning whether I was entangled in something beyond the scope of my understanding.
This unsettling experience became a turning point, a moment where the lines between reality and fantasy began to blur. The virtual realms, once perceived as mere pixels on a screen, now seemed to echo the events of my life. The intersection of the digital and physical became a realm where the ordinary rules no longer applied.
This encounter set the stage for the subsequent chapters, where the narrative would unfurl like a tapestry of mystery and revelation. As I grappled with the implications of my digital experiences bleeding into reality.
Chapter 3: Cadence of Revelation
As I traversed the intricate web of my experiences, the cadence of revelation quickened, weaving a tapestry of mystery and intrigue. The echoes of metal music and the digital landscapes of online games became not just facets of my reality but fragments of a larger cosmic symphony.
The unnerving incident on the highway, where the virtual and real seemed to dance in synchrony, cast a shadow of uncertainty over my perception of the world. The motorcycle encounter, immortalized in the digital domain of the mafia game, left me questioning whether I was a pawn in a game orchestrated by forces beyond my comprehension.
The dichotomy between the online and offline worlds became more pronounced, a thematic undercurrent that pulsed through my narrative. The virtual realms, once a refuge from the complexities of reality, now held a mirror to my experiences, reflecting a convergence of digital and tangible realms.
Amidst this disorienting dance, I found solace in the verses of rap music. The rappers, like spectral guides, spoke directly to me, their rhymes resonating with the rhythm of my emotions. It was as if I stood in a cosmic courtroom, being judged by a higher force, where some rappers championed my cause while others contested it.
The theory that the rappers were players from the mafia game, engaged in a clandestine war that transcended the virtual, added another layer of complexity. The boundaries between the gaming world and real life became porous, and I grappled with the notion that my every move was part of a grander narrative orchestrated by unseen hands.
As the rap lyrics unfolded, they became more than mere words; they were cryptic messages, keys that unlocked the doorways to magical revelations. The journey led me across four different countries, where graffiti and street art became not just expressions of creativity but tools of empowerment. The rappers, possessing me as vessels of expression, guided me to inscribe cryptic letters – keys – summoning forth artworks that held deeper meanings.
The digital and tangible realms intertwined as rappers, akin to ancient bards, guided me through both virtual landscapes and real-world battles of the mind. Each conflict within these digital landscapes mirrored my internal struggles—a delicate dance through the currents of virtual warfare.
The ominous synchronicity deepened, casting shadows over the unfolding narrative—a cosmic reminder that the quest, though rooted in the intangible, had tangible echoes that reverberated through the very fabric of my existence.
In the tangible world, the power of graffiti transcended its conventional artistic allure. It was a magic hidden in plain sight, a force waiting to be activated. Drawn by an otherworldly compulsion, I embarked on journeys through cities and countries, navigating buses to forgotten towns, all in pursuit of street artworks—graffiti holding ancient power.
These urban murals weren't mere paintings; they were intricately woven elements of a tangible Mafia game, guardians, families, or weapons concealed in the world's fabric. Rappers, like spectral guides, serenaded me, leading the way to these artworks, urging their activation.
To awaken the latent magic, a ritual unfolded.
Standing before these murals, not with direct gaze but within the periphery of my vision, I engaged in a mysterious dance. Focusing in and out of eyesight, the graffiti responded, revealing hidden meanings and shifting images.
As this inexplicable process unfolded, an unyielding will drove me forward—an innate understanding that this was my destiny, a calling to rouse these enchanted artworks for the sake of my quest.
With each discovery, the cosmic court room resonated with newfound voices. Rappers, stirred from a dormant state, lent their verses to my cause, while others contested, creating a symphony of cosmic debates.
Some aided in battles, their rhythms merging with the clashes within the real and virtual landscapes, while others championed or opposed my cause in the ethereal realms.
These awakenings were more than mere encounters; they were alliances and adversaries summoned by the mystical language of graffiti—a tangible manifestation of the quest's cosmic orchestration. The world, now a canvas of potential and peril, echoed with the resonance of awakened murals, each stroke telling a story, each image revealing a piece of the cosmic puzzle that was my life's unfolding tapestry.
As the rhythm of revelation quickened, a newfound awareness permeated the symphony of my existence, where each note and stroke were threads in the cosmic fabric of my unfolding journey. The keys, both lyrical and visual, were not just metaphors but tangible forces shaping the destiny that lay before me.
Chapter 4: The Ethereal Nexus
Within the sterile confines of the psych ward, the artifacts that had become intertwined with the fabric of my journey took on a new significance. Each stint in the ward, marked by uncertainty and introspection, provided a momentary respite—a peculiar chapter break within the unfolding saga of my life.
In those silent corridors, as I questioned the validity of my path and grappled with the shadows of doubt, the haunting strains of songs emerged like cosmic messengers. The playlist, a labyrinth of emotions, became the canvas on which my journey danced, triggered by melodies that reached into my very soul. Albums like "The Elder" by Kiss and Jimi Hendrix's enigmatic track served as lifelines, resonating with the sentiments I had poured out in my moments of psychosis.
Amidst the sterile walls, the artifacts from Romania and Haifa assumed a heightened significance. The small hand impaler, a relic from Romania, became a conduit for reflections on the real world, where governments transformed into vampiric entities, sucking the life from the people. This seemingly ordinary wooden artifact took on a deeper meaning as it fueled thoughts of a metaphorical weapon—an instrument to fight against the metaphorical vampires, the government, draining the life from society.
The concept of vampires, translated through the complex lens of psychosis, became a symbol of the government's exploitation. Instead of creating a utopia, they were bleeding the people dry, harnessing their hard work without contributing to the betterment of society. As I stood before the artifact, it became more than a piece of wood; it transformed into a symbolic weapon, a call to arms against the oppressive forces feeding on humanity.
In the woods of Haifa, I stumbled upon another artifact, a piece of wood that, at first glance, resembled a gun. Holding it up to the light, I discovered its intricate shadows—a realistic depiction of a gun with roots entwining around its barrel and a bird perched atop it. The discovery sparked profound contemplation, akin to the artifact from Romania.
This wooden piece, in its metaphorical dance of light and shadow, became a tool for the mind, prompting reflections on nature's role in transforming society. The concept of roots blocking the gun barrel symbolized nature's power to obstruct violence, offering a profound metaphor for the potential of nature to feed the world and pave the way toward a harmonious community.
As I held the artifact, the intricate shadows whispered of a world where food could be free, and humanity could unite in a shared vision of communal living. The roots obstructing the gun suggested that nature held the keys to flourishing life, inviting us to step into a realm where people lived not as solitary beings fighting for individual survival, but as a collective—a community intertwined with the rhythms of nature.
In the midst of my contemplations, I unearthed a connection between these tangible artifacts and a digital quest game that had been a part of my life since childhood. These artifacts, it seemed, were fragments of a cursed equipment set in the online game—a revelation that blurred the lines between the virtual and the tangible.
As I delved deeper into the mysteries of the online game, I couldn't shake the feeling that these artifacts were deliberately placed on my path, both in the digital realm and the physical world. Questions lingered: Were they breadcrumbs left for someone to follow? Was something greater than us orchestrating a path for change?
In the throes of my quest, the lyrics of Jimi Hendrix's enigmatic track - "1983... a merman i should turn to be" echoed in my mind, a song discovered anew after a prolonged stay in the psych ward where medication had dulled the vivid hues of my supernatural experiences. The lyrics resonated with my online rant, where I had predicted a future submerged in water, free from the world's sorrows.
Yet, the song's response, like a whispered retort from the cosmic ether, challenged the very fabric of reality.
"The machine that we built would never save us"
That's what they say
That's why they ain't coming with us today
And they also said
"It's impossible for man to live and breathe underwater forever"
Was their main complaint, yeah
And they also threw this in my face, they said
"Anyway, you know good and well
It would be beyond the will of God
And the grace of the King"
The lyrics of Jimi Hendrix's enigmatic track took root in the fertile soil of my contemplations. "They said the machine that we built would never save us," resonated in my mind like a prophetic echo. In the silent corridors of the psych ward, as I grappled with the artifacts and the digital quest game, I couldn't help but draw parallels to the verse.
The online games, a form of digital machinery, became a focal point of my reflections. Were they the machines Hendrix spoke of? Created with an intent that stretched beyond mere entertainment, perhaps these games were, in fact, tools for change, left behind by someone in the past who sought to sculpt a different reality.
The cosmic dance continued as the lyrics declared, "It's impossible for a man to live and breathe underwater forever." In the context of my online rant about a submerged future, these words felt like a direct response from the cosmic orchestrators. It was as if the enigmatic forces behind the supernatural experiences were acknowledging my journey, presenting challenges to overcome.
The line, "You know good and well it would be beyond the will of God and the grace of the King," assumed a peculiar significance. As I navigated the intricate web of my experiences, it was as if the higher powers Hendrix alluded to were observing, acknowledging the path I trod, and subtly hinting at a connection between their machine and my quest.
In the psych ward, the songs, the artifacts, and the digital game all converged into a nexus of revelation. The machine, whether a creation of the divine or a manifestation of human ingenuity, seemed to resonate with my endeavors. The acknowledgment that living underwater forever was beyond the will of God hinted at a cosmic plan—an intricate dance where the supernatural and the tangible intersected.
As I pondered the cosmic response within the confines of the psych ward, the enigma deepened. The artifacts, the online game, and the lyrics wove a tapestry that seemed to transcend the boundaries of time and space. The machine they built, whether a metaphor or a tangible creation, had echoes in the digital realms I traversed and the artifacts I held.
It was a moment of revelation, a glimpse into the intricate mechanisms of a cosmic narrative. The quest, initiated by supernatural experiences and fueled by artifacts and digital landscapes, unfolded as a response to a call from forces beyond comprehension. The machine, whatever form it took, resonated with my journey—a journey to understand, to change, and to unravel the mysteries of an orchestrated existence.
Chapter 5: Triumph of Ideals
In the cosmic courtroom of my existence, where battles unfolded between ideals and cosmic forces, a triumph emerged, echoing the victorious causes fueled by digital quests and mystical graffiti revelations.
Many years after the tumultuous chapters of my journey, a convergence of events led me back to a forgotten book about magic—an artifact purchased during the raging online debates surrounding my friend's tragic death.
In those early days, questioning vehemently why my friend chose to end his own life led me to the digital realm, where I raged against the world's injustices. During this time, I came across a book about magic—an ancient tome that had surfaced online, compelling me to make a purchase. However, for many years, the pages remained unexplored, collecting dust on my shelf.
As causes and ideals triumphed in the cosmic courtroom, a call echoed from the dusty pages of that forgotten book.
Upon opening it, I realized its spirit had been alive with me all these years, testing my worthiness to receive an answer.
The revelation within those pages shed light on the circumstances surrounding my friend's death.
The quote in the book hinted at the dark side of magical warfare, where black magic could be wielded as a weapon.
It suggested that targets of such malevolence might succumb to the insidious influence, eventually taking their own lives.
In that moment, I saw a sign—a possibility that my friend had been a target of black magic attacks, an unseen force manipulating the threads of his destiny.
Fueled by the will of revenge, I delved deeper into the mysteries surrounding his death.
The journey, now intertwined with magical warfare, revealed itself as a quest to strike back against those who had caused my friend's demise.
The cosmic threads tightened, leading me to a supernatural encounter where, while possessed, I received the Keys.
These ancient letters, the Keys, became a source of power, a mystical language that summoned my own graffiti magic.
Through these sacred symbols, I sought to unleash artworks and manifestations that would strike back against the forces responsible for my friend's fate.
Supernatural revelations became a pivotal chapter in my quest for justice.
As I unveiled this chapter of triumph, the cosmic courtroom echoed with the resonance of ideals prevailing over malevolence.
Guided by mystical symbols and the spirit of ancient magic, the journey promised a confrontation with the unseen forces that sought to extinguish the light in my friend's life.
One night, an inexplicable compulsion gripped me, urging me to pick up a pen and paper after years of dormancy.
Cryptic letters, unfamiliar to my eyes, flowed from my hand onto the page—a surreal act reminiscent of scenes from movies where schizophrenics inscribe mysterious messages on walls.
The keys, as I called them, multiplied on the page, forming a gateway.
Falling into the paper, I swam through the repeating letters, navigating a tunnel, a portal under my control.
As my hand continued to write, a rapper's voice from the speakers declared, "I Call this, The Pen Trip."
In the aftermath, armed with these mystical keys, I embarked on a quest of my own creation. A few days later, I stood before a wall, spray paint in hand.
Though I had never ventured into art before, I intuitively painted the keys, engaging in a ritualistic dance where each stroke followed the contours of the keys. The result—many artworks that left me impressed.
Days passed, and I felt a calling, a beckoning to Portugal. There, I discovered a massive graffiti piece, seemingly dormant for years, covering an entire wall.
Activating it with a ritual, I found myself entwined in an ethereal battle on the streets the following days.
A day later, I encountered the same graffiti, now marked with a giant X.
It felt as if the previous day's experience had triumphed over an entity, a symbolic revenge for my friend.
Reflecting on these experiences, a profound realization unfolded. Perhaps my friend's death wasn't solely due to black magic; rather, it was a narrative crafted by the rappers, guides, and spirits to grant me closure.
The journey became a supernatural gift—a means to show my friend's significance, allowing me to truly grieve and close a pivotal chapter in my life.
The quest, whether revenge was real or symbolic, bestowed upon me a unique gift.
Art.
From that point forward, I continued creating many artworks, cherishing this transformative journey.
As the odyssey reached its conclusion, the fabric of my reality shifted.
Spirits and spectrals surrounded me, and in the darkness, I discovered their constant presence.
They painted experiences for me—to overcome fears, find closure with my friend's death, and discover the essence of art. It felt like the journey had reached its completion.
GPT bro nice
haha ^^
yo so if youve read this far
first i wanna thank you for taking an intrest
and i also wanna share with you a question
ive been thinking to post this on my artist page
kinda my backstory to how i got into art
what do you think about this idea ?
,o-
^ this is me taking a bow
thank you for reading
lots of love
☼