Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: Nihilism

  • Melancholic Discomfort

    Melancholic Discomfort

    Melancholic discomfort was a mirror to my soul. Dead leaves fell with sadness. Sorrow grasped dreams and delight. The abyss of nothingness extended its boundaries. Delusional visions became gloomy shadows. Portals of darkness were sources of uncertainty. Illusion was reality but not anymore. Distances become journeys to surreal realms. Deceitful hopes were invisible traps

    Silence hushed me as an imperious order. There was no prophecy able to entangle my fate. Everything was distorted and hypnotising. Obsessions clutched my heart with nails and quills. The horizon was shrouded in haze. Only darkness was guiding me in a labyrinth of bitterness and revenge. I saw squalor swallowing magnificence. I heard the screams of joy of demented fools. Their claws were embedded in precious paintings

    At night I woke up overwhelmed by the moans of pain and dread. It was the visitation of those who had no voice. So many times, I wished to keep my heart in oblivion. But it was never the case. They came and their poison penetrated into my heart. I kept myself faraway from each one of them. At the end, my dreams had opened my eyes and I saw everything.

    It was too late and too soon. Time had no sense anymore. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything had become a dark nightmare. There was no escape. There was no salvation. I had been punished for having seen too much. Beyond any imagination. As if nature could have welcomed me to another realm. Where I was free from other mediocrity chains.

    The mist enveloped me, as if it wanted to protect me from seeing things that would dishearten and hurt me. I had been shamelessly copied by horrible ghouls who scrutinised me with envious and treacherous eyes. Copycats who used my lipstick, strove to reproduce my portraits in a grotesque, ridiculous style.

    Mediocrity and depravity wanted me to hush, because I had revealed their appalling secrets. But the wind was my ally and it brought my words to all the domains. My heart has been shattered and devastated. I had become a shell of myself. I couldn’t recognise my countenance in the silvery surface of cynical mirrors. I had no dreams anymore because I had lost any desire to survive.

    I was just a shell of myself, a ghost devoid of every hope to find the delights in a lugubrious existence. Touching the gelid walls of a house made of memories and bones, I was reminded of the several losses, deaths and funerals, which were entangled in my heart. I had lost everything that was very dear to me in an indissoluble manner.

    I felt a melancholic discomfort like sharp nails piercing my heart, and an absence of noise, as if I was already dead before dying. Long nights expired slowly, as though they didn’t want to leave space for the daylight. I was annoyed at the thought of seeing inept and mediocre beings wallowing in a world filled with cornucopias and treasure chests.

    I constantly felt like a creature condemned to see what I didn’t want to see. Squalor, venality, superficiality, and idiocy were served on platters of gold and gems as jewels of admiration and wisdom. I felt so disoriented and emptied of all my desires and dreams that I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with this miserable existence anymore.

    All my anguished thoughts turned into raw, unfiltered words. The sense of deep disappointment had disarmed me and I no longer knew what to do. Countless times I had lost myself and never found that part of me that had faded into oblivion. Mediocre, superficial, and flashy mortals had shamelessly supplanted me.

    Their grimaces in front of the cameras and idiotic poses had dominated the scene along with their bottles of luxurious perfumes, their exorbitant chocolates, and their sumptuous jewels. I saw marionettes devoid of any kind of decency, which were crowned queens of a fallen kingdom made of sewer debris and the dust of depravity. 

    I sat under a dead tree in the garden of disillusions, I was already exhausted by my existence, as if I were no longer capable of moving forward. I had given up in the face of the devastation and desecration of beauty and art. I didn’t want to be part of that bestiary that reeked of putrefaction and latrine.

    But at the same time, I felt helpless because I could not save what had been cruelly torn away from me. My shattered heart stopped beating and turned into a heavy stone that made me fall into the abyss of perdition. A deadly slumber had captured me, and I wept for the lack of dreams.

    The melancholy of the memories of what I lost overwhelmed me like a stormy sea. I felt helpless in the face of a tsunami of catastrophic events that had infested my life. I didn’t want to know anything anymore. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I didn’t want to love anything anymore.

    I locked myself in a refuge of perpetual silence, shunning everything that had damaged and scarred me. Every form of bliss was relinquished since I had become a shadow in a world that didn’t belong to me any longer. I shunned the realm of degradation and profanity.

    I had embodied all the despairs and struggles that had chased me, now that I was a shadow in a realm of darkness and descent. Dressed in fragments of forgotten beauty, I wandered aimlessly as if fate had abandoned me. A gentle breeze of restlessness and sadness enveloped me, as if to remind me that I still had a heart.

    The hiss of loneliness was the only sound that constantly accompanied me while I could not find a horizon or a destination to follow. I had regained myself by losing myself in the void, with the hope of forgetting everything that had erased me. I vanished like an evanescent cloud at twilight just before the eternal night came to announce its hegemony.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Delight Was My Demise

    My Delight Was My Demise

    My delight was my demise. My greed, so bitter and dark, gripped my heart, crushing it with all its essence, and all my most secret desires crumbled like shards of crystal upon the frozen, sorrowful ground. Alas, misery had destined me to be its sacrificial victim. And yes, I had no escape from my cruel fate.

    However much I loved love and the delights of an existence made of dreams and gentle flowers. Reneged by mortals and secluded within my dark and comfortless crypt, I sought refuge in my fantasy, pursuing with my withered soul, steeped in sorrow, all my most hidden and forbidden desires.

    I wept and shed as many tears as there are drops in the infinite ocean that stretched far away from me, since I was not granted the privilege of beholding it from my dark alcove. Nor was I allowed to see the stars, ever again in my lugubrious existence—such was my fatal destiny.

    My only companion was my perpetual candle, which illuminated my lugubrious space, merely to remind me of my misery, my finitude, and my impotence. Ghosts of the past spied on me, casting shadows upon the decrepit walls, dilapidated by the storms.

    The echo of my sighs reached the stars, which gazed at me with cynicism and indifference, as if I were unworthy of their affection, while dark and menacing clouds reminded me of my defeat. While scattered feelings bounced within my torn and bloodless heart.

    Threatening shadows embodied my fears and my most turbid secrets, which I would never have been able to reveal to any soul. And so, between resignation and funerary torpor, I lay inert, as though I were a stone statue. In all my fragility and in all my vulnerability, I knew that what awaited me was nothing but the destruction of my heart, my essence, my very self—total obliteration and oblivion. They were my final destination.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Abyss of Death

    The Abyss of Death

    The Abyss of Death
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    Then came the abyss of death, deep and wide,
    Where all must fall, where none could hide.
    The abyss of death, it called to stars,
    A silent plea, eternally.
    In that endless chasm, the longing was laid to sleep.
    The void embraced lost regret,
    And whispered, “Here, soon forget.”

    The cold was vast, the dark complete,
    And close behind, it hurt so endearing.
    For death, it took it all,
    Secret longings for lost hopes fell.
    The void consumed what life remained,
    And left behind the husks of pain.
    A hollow shell of what was,
    Now drifting in eternity.

    Finally, in that dark, quiet peace,
    A welcome end, a soft release.
    The chains of life that bound the soul,
    Were broken as control was lost.
    And though the blackness held tight,
    There was no fear; no light was seen.
    For, in the end, all must face,
    The emptiness of death’s embrace.

    The abyss keeps waiting for every heart,
    To draw in, to tear apart.
    What once was love, or hope, or fear,
    It was swallowed by the depths so near.
    No longer was there a yearning to see,
    For death has stolen that away.
    And in the abyss of death, wide and vast,
    Peace and rest were finally found.

    In that abyss, where none return,
    The fires of life no longer burn.
    All that was, now shadows thin,
    A spectre lost in an endless spin.
    Memories that once were clear,
    Are fading echoes, far from here.
    The void cradled every thought,
    Until there was no more to be sought.

    And so it sailed, no longer bound,
    By mortal coils or earthly sound.
    No time, no space, no fear, no care,
    Just an endless night, just empty air.
    What lay beyond was not known,
    For in this abysm, growth ceased.
    The abyss of death claimed the final breath,
    And there, the stillness of the end was found.

  • The Watcher In The Void

    The Watcher In The Void

    The watcher in the void exists beyond the reach of darkness and light. A shadow crawls—no, creeps—through cracks unseen, where time crumbles and whispers dissolve into nothingness. A hollow and vast eye looms through the endless darkness, constant and unblinking. The pulse of something unknown shudders through the air, a rhythm that defies reason. Has it begun? Will it ever end? The gaze of the watcher in the void pierces through the walls of sanity, unravelling the fabric of reality with a slow, deliberate stare.

    Breath lingers, suspended between worlds that will never merge. The air itself quivers as the void inhales thoughts, exhaling fragments of something twisted and dark. The ground shifts, a subtle tremor beneath unseen steps. Silence hums with tension, and the watcher in the void lingers just beyond the edge of perception. It watches—always watching—staring indefinitely at the infinite abyss of the universe.

    The void is endless—there is no beginning or end—only the infinite eye of the watcher in the void, which never closes and never tyres. Memories scatter like dust, ephemeral and insubstantial, fading into oblivion. Time loops in strange patterns, distorted, lost in the eternal gaze of something ancient, something incomprehensible.

    Echoes drift through the silence, faint and distorted, as if carried from a distant, forgotten realm. The watcher in the void is there, always present, with tendrils of existence coiling through unseen spaces, tightening, constricting, and squeezing until only fragments remain. The eye never wavers, never falters, holding everything in a relentless stare that knows no mercy.

    A scream fades into nothingness, consumed by the void, looping back into itself. The watcher in the void remembers all—every thought, every moment—caught in the never-ending cycle of its gaze. The void is eternal, and the watcher endures, bound to the emptiness, forever seeing, forever waiting. Nothing and no one can escape this lethal and cruel stare, not even the stars.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Eternal Void

    The Eternal Void

    The eternal void
    Endless—nothing—where?
    Fragments torn—memories lost—
    Floating, falling, drifting—where?
    Nowhere.
    The void… waits. Watches.
    But for what?
    Does it care?
    Nothing cares. Not here. Not in the void.

    The eternal void swallows—slow—silent—
    Not even silence, not even sound.
    Whispers? Shadows of whispers—
    They are gone. Gone—
    Never were.
    Thoughts… echo but in fragments.
    Pieces? Shards?
    They do not fit.
    They will never fit.
    Shapes twist—
    Do they exist?
    Or are they just memories of form?

    Time—? No time.
    Twists—collapses—frays—
    No past, no future—
    Just the now, just the empty—
    Just the endless stretch of nothing.
    And the void…
    It watches. Watches—
    Always watches.
    Endless eyes in the dark.
    Or are they there?
    Does anything truly exist in the eternal void?

    Fingers reach—
    What do they touch?
    Nothing—no feeling—
    The cold of space? No.
    The cold of nothing.
    Endless—endless—nothing.
    Feelings? Fading—forgotten.
    Lost in the endless drift.
    No ground—
    No sky—
    Only the eternal void.

    Thoughts—shattered—scatter—
    Where do they go?
    Gone—
    Lost—
    Twisting in the void—
    Fading into non-being.
    Who was I?
    Was I?
    The eternal void…
    It hums.
    But is it a hum?
    Or the echo of nothing,
    The dream of what never was?

    No dreams—
    Only the void—
    Only the endless,
    The endless void.
    Cries—silent—madness—
    But no madness, just…
    Emptiness, hollow,
    Spinning, spinning—
    Into oblivion,
    Into the void.
    Can reality feel it?
    The weight of it?
    Or is there no weight?
    No sense of it at all?
    Nothing to grasp—
    Nothing to hold—
    Only the void—
    Always the eternal void.

    Grasp—at what?
    Hope—gone—
    Desire—gone—
    Just the void—
    Only the void.
    Always the void.
    No end.
    No escape.
    The void… is eternal.
    And so are you—
    In it.
    Lost—forever.
    Lost—
    In the eternal void.

    Time loops—
    But does it?
    Or is that just a lie—
    The mind trying to make sense
    Of the senseless?
    Of the endless nothing?
    There is no sense—
    Only chaos—
    Only the void.
    And in it,
    The universe is nothing.
    The universe is an eternal void.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2026. All rights reserved.