As long as I can remember, the world has been like this,crumbling, hollow, fading piece by piece into dust.The air tastes of rust and forgotten rain, and the horizon bleeds into a gray that never ends.
They say it wasn't always like this. That once, the skies burned with color. That water stretched endlessly across the earth—alive, restless, and filled with creatures that breathed salt instead of air. I've read about it in the old books, the ones half-buried beneath the ruins. But now, where that vast body once lived, there's only emptiness.
Sometimes I think the planet still breathes. If I press my hand to the cracked soil, I can feel it—weak tremors pulsing beneath the surface, a dying heartbeat. Maybe it's my imagination. Maybe not. But I know one day, even that faint rhythm will stop, and our world will finally go silent.
Still, I want to know why.
Why everything is decaying.Why the earth is folding in on itself.Why we are still here to watch it die.
Some say it's the price of our sins—that the past finally came to collect. Others whisper it's divine punishment. A few believe the world was born broken, destined to die from the start.
But I don't believe in destiny.I believe in truth.And to find it, I'll have to go to the depths——to the place where it all began.
Until then, all I can do is dream.
When I close my eyes, I see a time before the silence. Towers rising like spires of light. Oceans that spoke in endless waves. Faces—so many faces—laughing, living, forgetting how fragile it all was. And then I see the stars burning out one by one, until only the dark remains.That's when I wake.
The wind outside howls through the skeletons of buildings. The sky groans like an old wound. And I wonder if maybe the world isn't dying at all—maybe it's changing, and we were simply not meant to follow.
Still… if there's a reason for all this, I'll find it.If something beneath the soil still stirs, still remembers, then I'll tear the ground open until I reach its heart.
Because even in decay, there must be meaning.And even in silence, there must be something left worth hearing.