+1 971 52 260 6335

HYDwA@pC4#hD - i can't remember what this is for...

qzor6!~]I6,a - what does this open? i can't remember anything



TIMELINE - 5760

SEQUENCE 1 - 488


my world password - access via terminal


__\s \s__

[** **]{#288085}

what makes us human

the unfairness of the SUBJECT A's artificial lifespan and the melancholy and violence that results.



series name ideas?

12-06-2025 : the great shame
in technicolor
love, loss and everything in between???

admin log bypass? try bypass.

- alt + arrow keys (left & right) to move between desktop and external files
- ctrl + R to reload the current screen
- read everything , click everything , open everything . or don't . i can't tell you what to do ;P
- if you get lost ( you will ) , go all the way back . no harm in starting over

- not much to say . they have such a diminished sense of individuality from deep-seated insecurities and makes up for it by adopting a number of different skins that they shed with a velocity that makes even their own head spin .
- "Born in India and raised across Oman and Dubai before relocating to the United States at twenty-three, their transnational upbringing shapes an interest in shifting selves, and unstable temporalities within narrative form." lol
- they're just some guy who makes art because that's all they're good at . if you want to look at their very professional online portfolio , head here

- this site was built by frankenstein-ing code from lunospace's neocities page here . thank you lunospace for building a beautiful site that i could "steal" code from .

- i would also like to thank Jess Worby who has been an amazing advisor . He's given me so much support and encouragement throughout the process of working on this project . Thank you Jess , you're awesome .

- this project is dedicated to the people I love , and the people who love me tenfold . Your sincerity scares me .

'cherry-colored funk'



'on a fool's errand'


I blame the movies and TV shows I was raised on for my warped outlook on love. This notion that you'll find 'the one'. Your one true love. Knights in shining armor, grand confessions and gestures. Always excessive and dramatic.

The reality is, love is simpler than all that, intangible and therefore, all the more confusing. I have loved so many people, silently, violently, but it is all love at the end of the day. I fall quick and hard, and when a relationship inevitably ends*, a part of me gets left behind with the person I love. Because I never really stop loving anyone, you see. It's beautiful and tragic in a sense. Maybe I'll never feel whole, because I'm always giving so much of myself away.

And still I search, for my one true love, knowing such a person doesn't exist.

I'm on a fool's errand. A never-ending quest that is destined to fail.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They all end through some fault of my own. Sometimes I feel like I trick people into falling for me, so when it feels like they really do love me, sincerely, wholly, I feel ashamed, undeserving of their sincerity.

Because as much as I want love, want to be seen and known, the minute it starts to feel real, I pull back.

It's a scary thing, to be truly percieved.

So, I end things. Always. Sometimes, its by slowly pulling away until my partner says the words to make it official, or I'm the one to cut things off.

'Shame, now in technicolor'



'The ecology of my shame'


It started as an 'assignment' from my therapist. She'd said something along the lines of - "Draw out your emotions. Think about what depression, anxiety - all these other feelings you have - think about what they look like. This isn't something you have to share with me or anyone you know, or even post online, unless you decide to after. So, don't think about making it look good or having it make sense. Draw how you feel."

That's how it started. Shame is the big word we use, my therapist and I. And when I tried to picture my shame, I saw nothing, but I thought about all the things that bring me shame. The disonance between my perceived gender and the one I want to really present as. My sexual desires. The fact that I'd let my guard down and invited a practical stranger to my room. The drinking, the smoking, lying to my mother about the drinking and smoking.

But when I opened up a new canvas, let my mind go blank, this is the image it produced through my hand.

My shame is an ecosystem of organisms, alive and in my lungs, drowning me from within.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I thought I knew what a downward spiral looked like. I thought, surely the worst is behind me. I have learned not to resort to YmxhZGVz to deal with the pain in my heart and mind.

If only I knew.

12/06/2025. It's weird how the MM/DD/YY format feels more natural to me now. I've only been here for two and a half years and I've adopted the American date format. A part of me, the part that knows I won't stay here forever, worries if I'll get the date mixed up when I'm not in this country anymore. Will it be December 6 that leaves a stain, or June 12?

I'd come too far to go back to my old ways. Besides, I'd gotten rid of all the YmxhZGVz. For the next month and a half, I stayed isolated in my room, stuck in the same place I'd been YXNzYXVsdGVkIGlu. I distracted myself, and I did it well. I've had years of experience.

VGhlIFsgICBdIHNlcnZlciBoZWxwZWQuIFRhbGtpbmcgdG8gYWxsIHRoZXNlIG5ldyBwZW9wbGUgb25
saW5lLCBkcmF3aW5nIHRvZ2V0aGVyLCBwbGF5aW5nIHZpZGVvIGdhbWVzIGFuZCB3YXRjaGluZyBtb3ZpZXMgdG9nZXRoZXIsIGl0
IGhlbHBlZC4gSSBjb3VsZCBhbG1vc3QgcHJldGVuZCBsaWtlIEkgaGFkIGEgd2hvbGUgZGlmZmVyZW50IGxpZmUsIHdpdGggYWxsI
HRoZXNlIGRpZmZlcmVudCBwZW9wbGUgaW4gbXkgbGlmZS4gSSBzcGVudCBteSBtb25leSBvbiB1c2VsZXNzIHNoaXQsIGRpZG4ndC
BzbGVlcCwgYmFyZWx5IGF0ZS4=

But the wound was too fresh.

I never understood people who drank their pain away. Until now.

And like every good thing that comes my way, I had to let it go, leave. I'd formed an unhealthy attachment, you see. I really miss it though.

What's funny is, I barely think of 00110001 10100111. Well, I am now, but usually, it's like he doesn't even exist. This pain, anger, shame, they just swirl inside me with no source, which makes it worse. If only I could direct it all at him. Unfortunately, that would mean that he'd be on my mind, all the time. I don't fucking want that.

Here's one thing I can count on though. No matter what, I can always create. No one can take that away from me. I won't let them.

'hello world'



'my world'


It's lonely here. Days are spent holed up in my cave, nights are spent drifting through the empty cosmos.

The dreams help sometimes. Faces and voices of people I don't recognize, calling out my name, reminding me who I am. Those are the only sounds I hear, besides the occassional splashes of the water, or my own breathing in

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

At least I don't have to worry about taking up too much space. It's just me in this big empty field. Wet grass. Water. Stars. I'm lonely here, but I'm also happy.