Lovecraft Letters: I Am Nothing

Below the fold…

Image of largely hairless white man holding the brim of the black fedora-style hat he is wearing.
Robert, 27, 36 miles away
Laid back but parties every now and then. 420 friendly but not too friendly. Love the outdoors but also chilling playing cards or any other type of games or movies. Homebody though I have taught English in China. Nice but no afraid to stick up for myself or…

DO YOU HEAR THE HOWLING? THE WINDSTORM OF MY SOUL BECKONS TOWARD YOU FROM 36 MILES AWAY, SEEKING, CALLING, DEMANDING. I HAVE BROUGHT THIS HOMEBODY AS FAR AWAY AS CHINA, BUT IT AVAILED ME NOT. THE VOID IN ME WOULD NOT BE SATED. I AM EMPTY, BUT YOU…YOU COULD FILL ME.

GAZE NOT UPON THE HIDEOUS GROWTH ON MY CRANIUM. IT IS NECESSARY TO HOLD IN THE TRUEST GASPING PULL OF THE EMPTINESS WITHIN, LEST I CONSUME YOUR WORLD AND REMAIN, EVEN THEN, UNFULFILLED. FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY TIMES HAS SOMEONE TOO FRIENDLY TRIED TO SEE WHAT LIES BENEATH THE TRILBY, AND FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY TIMES HAS THE UNIVERSE SPIRALED INTO THE VOID, HEAT DEATH TURNING INTO A NEW, STRANGER LIFE. I AM NOT AFRAID TO STICK UP FOR MYSELF ON THIS MATTER. I AM NICE, I ASSURE YOU. THIS IS A WARNING.

YET ON EACH OF THOSE FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY TIMES, I ROSE AGAIN, DETERMINED TO FIND HER. THIS JOURNEY HAS, AT LAST, BROUGHT ME TO YOU. CAN I INTEREST YOU IN SOME CHILLING PLAYING CARDS? I KEEP THEM CHILLING IN THE ICEBOX SO THAT THEY CAN MOST APPROPRIATELY TITILLATE YOUR SERVO MOTORS WITH THEIR FROSTY TENDRILS, AND ALSO SO THAT THEY PROVIDE A MOST PLEASANT CRUNCH WHEN SERVED WITH OLIVE OIL AND MANGO CHUTNEY. IT IS POSSIBLE THAT PLAYING CARDS ARE DIFFERENT IN THIS UNIVERSE. I GET CONFUSED SOMETIMES.

I FANCY SHARING TIME WITH YOU INVOLVING GAMES OR MOVIES, WHICH ARE FRIENDLY BUT NOT TOO FRIENDLY. ON MY LAST TOUR OF THE RESPAWNED COSMOS, A TOO-FRIENDLY GAME JOSTLED MY TRILBY AND I HAD TO WATCH HER STRETCH INTO OBLIVION NOODLES AS THE EMPTINESS WITHIN ME CONSUMED HER OVER A THOUSAND AGONIZING EONS. THAT UNIVERSE IS WITHIN ME NOW, A DROPLET IN THE OCEAN OF MY ALL-CONSUMING HUNGER. I WAS AFRAID TO STICK UP FOR MYSELF THEN. NOT ANYMORE. ALSO, I FINALLY NAILED DOWN MY HAT. IT IS PART OF ME NOW, AS I HOPE YOU SOMEDAY WILL BE. I’M SO EMPTY.

PLEASE. I’M SO EMPTY. COULD YOU BE THE ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS THE VOID WITHIN ME, HOW IT CHURNS AND WRITHES AND INSISTS ON PARTYING EVERY NOW AND THEN? CONSUMING THE UNIVERSE WITH MY EMPTY, ULULATING APPETITE IS A LONELY EXISTENCE, AND EACH WORLD THAT FALLS INTO THE VOID WITHIN ME ONLY ADDS TO THE LABOR OF MY PASSAGE THROUGH TIME. THERE ISN’T MUCH TIME. MY FLESH STRAINS TO HOLD THE EMPTINESS WITHIN. THE DEAD STAR OF MY BEING WEARS AND CHEWS AWAY AT MY MEATY EXTERIOR FROM THE INSIDE, ITS HUNGER AS ENDLESS AS THE UNFINISHED SENTENCES OF MY DATING PROFILE. I TIPPED MY HAT AND IT CONSUMED THE SENTENCES, LEAVING ONLY ELLIPSES AS DROPPINGS IN ITS WAKE. YOU CAN HELP ME. YOU COULD FILL THE ABSENCE IN MY HEART THAT THREATENS TO CONSUME THE UNIVERSE ANEW. I SENSE IN YOU I HAVE FOUND SOMEONE DIFFERENT, SOMEONE SO METAPHYSICALLY BOUNDLESS THAT I MIGHT, AT LONG LAST, BE SAVED. I NEED YOU TO FILL THE EMPTINESS IN MY LIFE, TO SAVE US ALL. PLEASE.

THEY SAY THE FOUR HUNDRED TWENTIETH TIME’S THE CHARM, AND YOU WILL NEED SEVERAL CHARMS TO SATIATE THE HOLLOW NIGHT OF MY SOUL. I CAN DIRECT YOU TO THEM, BUT ONLY WITH YOUR PROMISE THAT YOU’RE LAID BACK ENOUGH TO MATCH THIS ORDEAL. I NEED TO KNOW THIS. I NEED TO KNOW THAT YOU’RE WILLING TO PUT EVERYTHING ON HOLD IN ORDER TO FILL THE YAWNING CHASM OF THIS SAD, EMPTY MAN’S SOUL, TO SAVE THE REST OF THE UNIVERSE.

IF THAT’S NOT ENOUGH OF A SALES PITCH…UM…I HAVE DRUGS.

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Lovecraft Letters: I Am Nothing
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