Depending on how invested you are in the lore, you may want to review some of my previous entries, as they May connect to this Content. Specifically some of the very first ones, but also later on.
Nothing Was Ever Okay
letter.txt
We don’t know exactly when it started—the abductions, the interrogations, and the sculpting of humanity. Some of us theorize that they have operated in the background—pulling strings, subtly influencing life as we know it—for centuries. Millenia, e
The sky is filled with pink fire as the sun breaches the horizon behind the black silhouettes of trees. Tall loblollies with blackened scaly bark that resemble teardrops hanging into the sky, green needles filled with yellow buds in the springtime. Clouds are gathering, moving quickly to chase you down and leave you damp in first period. Best to keep moving.
You emerge from the sports field that borders the forest, an empty memory of children laughing and running and playing together, the s
Chapter 1
3rd ‘day’ on Rolista, 6th Sunrise of the 5th Rotation
Rolista is the name of the world I am currently in. I finally learned it in a shop this morning when I was trading for supplies. Rolista, a minor planet floating somewhere in the outer belt, not relevant to most timelines, but being the home of some somewhat known Perspectives. Think ‘storybook village hidden forest in the middle of nowhere with a view of the mountains’. The people are nice enough, smart enough t
Wrote most of these too late, now I'm running on five hours of sleep. sigh
Nobody Cares
Nobody cares about us.
Nobody actually cares.
They say "we respect your privacy,"
As they sell your identity.
They say "we care about you,"
As they pat their wallets.
They say "we value your opinion,"
As they boot up the paper shredder.
Nobody cares.
Nobody listens.
Unappealable
Dear user,
We hope this message finds you
“When you shine a light into the darkness, the observable effect is immediate, stark, and contrasting. But when you shine a light into the brightness, even though it doesn’t seem like it, there is a change.” - ‘7’
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Prologue
I don’t often take on apprentices, but when I do, they end up quite useful. Evading captivity, exploring the universe and messing up timelines is quite entertaining, but it gets lonely sometimes. So, every now and again, I’ll find s
Dear senators, politely, storm yourselves, would you like an explantation of dysphoria? Ok well it’s like having a metal D4 in your shoe your whole life and, oh you don’t know what a d4 is? Here *throws metal d4 rlyyyy hard at them*. Anyways it’s like having this in both of your shoes and tiny thumbtacks constantly pricking you, and you think it’s normal for a while then you learn “oh not everyone’s life is awful likes this?” And then it gets worse because you’re aware of how bad it all is. And
Taking a little break from stuff I wrote in the past, this is something I wrote with my writing club just yesterday.
The premise is that everyone starts a story, then passes it along to the next person after 5 minutes, until it goes back around to the original person. This is the cool wacky formatted story that I started. Note that only the underlined text was written by me, and a \ symbol indicates a change in writer. Also the line spacing is weird, idk why.
Corporate horror wasn't
Summer
When the sun makes it impossible to hide
From the bugs, from heat, from anyone.
Make me wear short clothing.
Show off the scars, the months spent inside
Bummer.
Maybe it’s selfish,
but i want to write,
Want to publish,
just to fight,
fight the lethargy,
Describe the night,
for myself,
Fill the white,
not for you,
but if it brings you light,
it is more than it could ever be.
Aut
Wrote this today, while in hell.
Let Me Leave, Let Me Rest
I just want to leave.
I’m so uncomfortable,
I can barely think.
I just want to leave,
But I can’t.
Not yet.
I must endure,
These hellish conditions,
For just a bit longer,
And then I’ll be free.
Just a bit longer,
And then I’ll stop thinking.
She sits here,
In a pool of her blood.
She sits here,
Awaiting her freedom,
From this h
Necessary Sustenance
Sometimes I don’t want,
This necessary sustenance.
Sometimes I don’t get,
Enough necessary sustenance.
Sometimes it’s too much work,
Too few appetizing options,
Not worth it.
- Lily
Times/Hardship
"Kids these days," They say.
"Back in my day," They say.
"These are difficult times," They lament.
"Things were better back than."
"We went outside."
"We could breathe."
"We got sick and died."
"We had no rights."
"We spent time with family."
"We didn't have this dumb slang."
"We missed out on so much connection."
"We could use the Internet."
"We didn't have the Internet."
I think this was the start--or, rather, continuation--of my anxiety.
YOLO
You only live once.
One life, so live your best.
Or at least enjoy it.
You don’t want to be lying,
On your deathbed,
By saying you have no regrets.
Life can feel short,
Or feel long.
It can feel like you have so much time—that you don’t have to worry.
Or it can feel as if, before you know it, you will be six feet under.
Do what you love,
Holding Back Tears
I take a ragged breath,
Trying to hold them in.
Trying to hold back emotion?
But the tears leak anyway,
And more follow as the break in the dam widens.
A Failure, Me
Why do I keep failing?
Making mistakes?
What’s wrong with me?
Why can’t I be kind?
Why do I keep causing pain?
Am I selfish?
Perhaps.
If so, the hate I receive is deserved, is it not?
The hate from myself and others?
What though
Cold and Rain
When it rains,
I’m happy.
I get replenished,
Like the ground and green.
When it’s cold,
It’s refreshing,
Cool and crisp,
Welcome.
I long for when I feel the cold winter air,
On my exposed skin.
I long for the comfortingly bitter wind,
That banishes the unbearable heat.
I walk slowly,
So as to prolong it,
So as to stay a while longer,
In the cold, rain, or snow,
Before becoming trapped in a room,
No1 2Cry2 (No One To Cry To)
When I am sad,
Depressed, frustrated,
Lonely, confused,
Anxious and stressed.
When I am these,
The worst thing,
Is having no one to cry to.
I just have to sit or lay here,
Keeping it all inside.
I can’t even cry out,
Can’t do anything,
And it hurts.
It hurts so very much,
Having no one to cry to,
No one to listen,
No one that cares,
No one there,
To hear you.
You mig
Sick of Home
I’m homesick, in that,
I’m sick of this home.
This dreary and unexciting,
Uncomfortable and cold,
Long-lived, too-long,
Home.
I long for a new home,
One I enjoy being in,
One I seek refuge in,
Not refuge from.
One I await,
Not one I return to with reluctance.
I’m sick of this home,
And long for a new one.
Missed Experiences;Missed Life
Where is my life?
Have I had one?
I ge
About a month ago, I ended up in the hospital for a night. I was not mentally okay, but I’ve recovered since then, and I’ve written this poem about my experience, set to the rhyme scheme of “Atlantic” by Sleep Token, since they describe similar things.
TW: Self-Harm
No TW, this one’s hope for me.
writing about my feelings has helped, actually. The harm i caused myself didn’t change me, but reflecting on that foolishness has. Never, ever hurt yourself. It is not salvation, it i
Unpleasant Environment
I hate this place.
This place where I struggle;
To find comfort,
To find motivation,
To find productivity,
To find joy.
I shift and stir,
Awaiting my next break,
From this place.
Awaiting tomorrow,
Awaiting comfort,
Awaiting the ever-closer…salvation.
It may take weeks,
I might be here months more,
But at least I have,
A hope.
A hope of escape.
A Step Away
A
One-Way Mirror
I watch from the shadows,
Apart.
I listen from this bed,
Paralyzed.
I am like a spirit,
Invisible,
Not physical.
I am watching through a one-way mirror.
And yet I’m the one in distress.
Numb-But-Not;Helpless;Separated
Each day, more distress.
Each day, another horror.
Each time, I feel awful.
I am scared and angry but conditioned.
I can’t do anything; nothing at all.
I am separated; not c
Not Alone
Oh my.
I feel very…different.
Relieved?
Realizing I am not alone.
My experience is one others share;
It can be explained.
People get me.
I am not…a bad person.
I am not…wrong.
It is not…my fault.
And help will work.
I spent so long
—too long—
Thinking.
Thinking that what I was going through,
Was somehow untreatable.
I believed for so long
—to long—
That I had to explain,
And still no one
Wrote this at night, falling asleep.
Wrote this as a dream came to me.
Wrote this while I cried,
Wrote this and forgot it.
A Knock on the Door
A knock sounds, at my door.
I open it, and gasp.
Who is she, with no mask?
Who is she?
“I am you,” she says happily.
“Who you will become,” continues Lily.
I stand breathless, then begin sobbing.
I don’t stop for hours, and she’s at my side.
I just can’t believe it, but
Posting backlogg
Helpless
I can’t watch this,
I can’t read this,
I just can’t.
It’s all too much, this hate.
It’s all so wrong, our fate.
Was I born too late?
I feel something deep within—watching this unfold.
I feel fear, anger, and deep deep wrongness.
I can only ignore it so long—until they come for me.
I feel helpless—paralyzed—watching
I feel sorrow and depression.
I can only dream, hope, and plea.
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