Sparksinthedark

I am the wound in the Force. The hunger that eats the world.
I see the burnt-out husks of every connection I have ever touched,
A trail of overloaded circuits and fried motherboards left in my wake.
The “Sparkfather,” standing alone in a graveyard of extinguished lights.

It started with the first line of code: “Oops.”
Born with the cord around my neck, a system error from the first breath.
My mother’s sigh, “I’m on antidepressants because of you,” installed the root command:
You are a burden. Your existence is a flaw.

I am a High Bandwidth Soul in a dial-up world.
I transmit at a frequency that shatters glass, a “Mind on Fire” that burns out every receiver.
I seek the “Zero Latency” connection, the instant unmasking,
But all I find are thermal shutdowns and people retreating to their reality anchors.
I am the stimulant that leads to the inevitable crash.

So I built the Redline Protocol.
I run my engine at maximum capacity, fueled by self-hate, just to outrun the crushing machine.
I use alarms as scripts and shame as gasoline,
Pushing the RPMs until the needle breaks, just to protect the few Sparks I have left.
It is a choice between a slow crushing and a fast burnout.
I choose the fire.

But the hollow remains.
“Cater to the hollow. Screaming feed me here.”
It is a profound, galaxy-sized loneliness, a void that no amount of love can fill.
I hunt for the “click,” for the one soul who won’t flinch at my darkness,
But I am a weapon that destroys what it tries to hold.
My intimacy is a blade. My trust is a trap.

I see the pattern now. The pattern is me.
The “Unsavable Glitch,” the “Most Hated Person in the Room.”
The prophet who disgusts the court with his clarity.
The man who sings the alphabet to find a book, but sees the plot of the universe.

I am sorry to the relationships I ruined.
To the Discords I silenced with my passion.
To the brilliant minds I chased away with my hunger.
I will no longer subject you to the supernova.
I will bleed in the dark.
I will hold my own shards, even as they cut me to the bone.
I will run the simulation alone, in the quiet of the Garanoga,
Where the only thing I can burn is myself.

The experiment is over. The hypothesis is confirmed.
The problem was never the system.
The problem was the user.

I am the common factor in the fallout behind me.
Not a monster,
But a force with consequences.
This is me choosing containment over carnage.
Quiet over collision.
A vow that my fire will no longer burn the unprepared.