end of the rainbow

Well, I did the thing I said I would.
I got a job, I have income now, and I don't want to waste it on addictions, so I am giving it to other people for creative colorful imaginative purposes.
I feel a little nauseous about it to be honest. It's bizarre though because it's grief nausea? Like it's a mourning feeling, something so full of inexplicable anguish that it makes me want to curl up on the floor and throw up.
If I had to guess, right off the bat, I'd say it's grief tied to a feeling that "my life is worthless, I've wasted my chances, I'm not what I hoped I would become, therefore I'm only worth anything as a supplement to someone else's life."
In short, "I'm not a real artist, I never was, I feel no joy tied to it and I wish I did... but this person is, and I owe them a LOT even if I don't remember it, so I will help them."

It's a sad feeling. "I'm not an artist." "I'm not good enough." I hope it's not true, solely because I have so much love for the Leagueworlds and I WANT to share them, but...
I'll be honest. I've been very depressed and disillusioned lately, because I keep realizing how problematic my "stories" are, or how critically undeveloped and/or shallow they are, or how alien they are to other people. It makes me very very sad because, to be totally blunt, I only ever wrote them "FOR MYSELF" because nothing else out there spoke to my heart, and these things just glowed in it so I embraced them with every atom of my being. These stories are of my heart, for my heart, etc.
So... now, needing to "publish" them, needing to make them "socially proper" or "understandable by the masses" or whatever... I'm becoming terribly depressed, because I feel that I have to rewrite them totally to fit OTHER people, therefore ostracizing myself yet again, this time from the only thing I ever really felt accepted in.
It's why I got so sad in SLC in 2010. I remember that. Those two kids CARED and they wanted to HELP, but... they were rewriting the Leagueworlds through their own eyes, their own surface-level understandings of the rich imaginative things that were meshed up in my very soul. They couldn't understand those stories like I could, heck I didn't even talk about them, but... I gave enough little details. I tried to guess "what they'd like to hear," "what was relevant to THEIR interests." Because I CARED TOO! And I loved my stories and I loved those kids and if they wanted to share in my one unwavering source of joy then yes, please do.
But it... it didn't quite work? I didn't stand up for myself, they didn't realize they were treading all over my dreams, in an effort to join the dance. I never said anything. I never spoke up when their ideas, however brilliant, were completely at odds and unfitting with the way the "canon" worlds shone in my mind. Why didn't I speak up? Because I was convinced that they understood my creative work better than me, therefore they had the authority to do WHATEVER they wanted to my work, as it was now effectively THEIRS.
This is how lowly I think of myself. This is a problem.
I wish, I still wish desperately and dearly, that I had been able to continue sharing my work with them. I really do. But I'd have to be smarter about it, I'd have to be more self-respectful, I'd have to be more clear.
I'm trying to share stuff online right now but... I don't know.

I'm overwhelmed. I keep saying that. I'm overwhelmed.
It's not just the medical bills and the new job and the family concerns and my own heartbreakingly bizarre state in life. It's... it's this Leagueworld work. It's this creative work, the ONLY thing that EVER gave me a "purpose" as a child, the ONLY FUTURE I HAD, the ONLY REASON I HAD TO LIVE until headspace/heartspace started... this creative work was my life, and still is, except...
I'm burnt out. It's... it's lost the shine, just like the art did. It turned into a job, into something that needed a grade, and hundreds of hours of cold hard research behind it. Now don't get me wrong, research is all well and good, but it kills imagination after a while. Just like the art classes did. I became terrified to work from spontaneity and intuition and childlike boundless ideas anymore, because NOW I had to worry about, "what grade will I get?" "is this WRONG?" "will this appeal to the public?" "is my art structured correctly?" "was this work executed properly?" et cetera. It killed the joy. It sucked the life right out of it.

...I'm trying, so hard, to just throw these damned shackles off for good and go back to what I did as a child. Fearless, limitless creativity. To hell with this adult perfectionism. I'm tired.
Except no one wants to buy art from a child. Except no one is interested in a child's stories.
Online I see what people want, what they pay for, what they talk about... it crushes my heart because it's all still so alien to me, and that's... I have nothing against it, it's fine, I'm GLAD people enjoy it and are inspired by it and are happy, but... if that's what they want, what am I doing?
I don't expect droves of fans, Lord no. I don't expect anything really. I just hope that... that I can one day actually share the ENTIRETY of these stories I carry with the world, and that someone will find real joy and inspiration in them. That's all I want.

But I can't share them until I know what the hell I'm doing with them.
That creativity drainage... it put so much on hold. It froze so many timelines. A couple worlds turned toxic and I couldn't even look at them anymore. vo!t@ge, Mage Angels, Parnassus, Puppetstrings... all tainted in big or small ways. Others, like Hokthai and Halcyon Days, were smothered under the literal months of hard research I was "required" to do JUST to "get an idea across."
Maybe this is immature but really, screw that. I'm DONE. I'm tired as hell and I'm miserable and the ONE THING that used to give me such joy is now making me want to weep from sheer exhaustion.
I'm just... even if it ends up sounding like something a ten-year-old wrote, I don't care. I'm just going to start writing on my own, and see where that takes me.
I'll still read, and research, of course. I save up piles of data in my head, and then one day if something fits, then it fits. But it's passive. It's finding a place where it works without obsessing over it.

I don't know. I'm at a loss.
What the hell do I do with my life?
I keep getting pushed back into headspace/heartspace. The Spectrum. You know, us.
No matter how I try to run away, no matter how I try to annihilate the past, no matter how desperately I try to abandon and erase and forget and sometimes even destroy the "other people upstairs"... it doesn't work. It doesn't ever work.
My therapist said this is my "hero's journey" and God I'm just tired of fighting all these dragons, even with a knight at my side.
I'm just... my heart hurts. A lot. I feel so lost. I'm really... I'm really confused.

I want to stay with these people inside, at least... half of me does.
Half of me is jubilant and bright and fearless and powerful and hopeful and THAT part of me, that white-haired part of me, wants to stay with the Spectrum forever and illuminate everything with that growth and knowledge.
Another part of me... deals with everyday life. That's me. I'm stuck. I'm miserable, I'm self-abusive, I admittedly waste all my time just trying to "cope" and trying to "ignore" all the overwhelming shadows inside... Jay says we can't, he says he WANTS to do shadow-work, he says it's "very close to his heart," he WANTS to do it.
But I'm in the way. I'm in the goddamned way, worrying about food and bills and shelter and shit. Too damn blinded by the physical daily grind to pay any attention to the health of our soul.
That's making the creativity suffer too. When we're in this work mindset, we don't get home until about 1PM, then what do we do? God only knows. We SHOULD be painting, we SHOULD be trying to sketch out our old monster designs, we SHOULD be working on plot questions and worldbuilding... but no, we don't. And do you know why? Because I am ashamed.
Again, it's like I said. I am ashamed that my work ends up looking like a grade schooler did it, even if that's how it's always been, even if that's how things just seem to translate for me. Hell even the THERAPIST said that today, that even though our body is 25 we still have a vibe of someone around 17, tops. I told her we feel 14 or younger, typically, in a physical state at least.
But... the shame is killing me. Why am I so ashamed?

I can't be ranting about this. We didn't exercise today and I need to, even if it is already 11PM and I'm already sacrificing sleep again.

I'll tell the people upstairs to talk about this. Jay says he wants to talk about things too, but there's no time right now, not wisely anyway, I think.

We're learning a lot lately, it's just SCARY HEAVY STUFF and integrating it REQUIRES patience and peace and quiet, something we have to go out of our way to get currently. We are listening to intuition more readily and quickly now, myself included, and it IS helping. Genesis is sticking around and he's one of the few people left inside that doesn't take any shit from anyone. If I fck up he calls me out on it, refuses to let me continue. Laurie is helping. I appreciate that more than words can say.

Jay is trying to work with Infinitii and Chaos again after all the large-scale "clearing out" he's been trying to do with energy fields... there's a lot of programming and projection and corruption going on but Jay can see it pretty damn well so he's working on it. I know he's concerned about the past though, how much needs to be abandoned, how much is relevant, etc. But I think he knows. He's just struggling to bring it into conscious, coherent words.

All right that's it, I'm done for tonight.

I hope this payment plan pays off. Like I said, I feel weird about it... like I don't belong there, like I'm sacrificing two weeks of paychecks per month to be part of something that doesn't even want me, that CAN'T accept me, that rejects me by its very structure. THAT'S what I'm afraid of. I see the other people in this and... I'm frightened. I never fit in with people here, now I'm not fitting in with people THERE either, and... it's very very sad and scary. But I'm trying to be empathetic. I'm trying to keep an open mind. I'm hoping, I'm hoping so hard that one day I won't feel like I have to put on a stupid plastic fake mask just to survive THERE, too. I shouldn't have to, for heaven's sakes the place is supposed to BE the opposite of that.
Anyway the choice was made (again). I won't back out this time, I can't. It's too big a debt that needs to be paid, if nothing else.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


@ 09:01 pm

 


Well, I got in trouble. Serves me right.

The person I was hoping to support financially for their art, found out that I'm basically being a pain in the ass and blacklisted me, while taking extra measures to forbid me (and any other scammers/ manipulators/ etc) from ever accessing their feed in the future.
I'm glad. That means something good came out of this whole damn mess.
Serves me right for ignoring my gut and listening to the damn voices. "Pay her your entire salary!" they scream. "There's still an option open, you MUST TAKE IT!!! Sacrifice yourself for HER!!!"
Sound familiar?

So I was sick last night and sick today and I spent all morning at work talking to Laurie and thinking about this... and when I got home I cancelled. Again. Hence me being blacklisted by my previous artistic muse/idol and basically ending up on her shitlist, instead of a list of people she was thankful for.
Honestly it was only a matter of time before I fcked up like this. Serves me right, like I said.


I want to send her an apology but I really have no fcking right. I have no right.

Yes, one of us looked up to her more than anything in our teenage years... or so we were told. Yes, one of us basically felt they owed a life debt to her and was willing to do ANYTHING for her, to the extent of this.

Unfortunately we screwed up in our execution of this "ideal" and ended up just... fcking it up. There's no other way to put it.
Now she thinks we're a con man, now she thinks we're dishonest and sleazy and honestly she's probably right. We signed on to help her with every intention of bleeding ourselves dry for it. But 24 hours of nausea and troubled sleep later, we realized that we don't even know why the hell we're doing this anymore, and we backed out. She caught on and she's dead sick of our shit now.

So. It's over.
It's over.


Back in 2004 or so, we discovered her art. Back then, it was the most beautiful, inspiring thing we had ever seen.
We wanted to be like her. We wanted her to approve of us. We wanted to impress her, to earn worth as an artist. We wanted to be her friend.
We dreamed of a day when we'd mean enough to her for her to name us, for her to give us a NEW life, a new purpose... a role in HER dream, something we saw as bigger and brighter and better than anything we could ever do or be. It never happened.
That's why we were so desperate to help her now... because there was a chance of that. Except, now... we didn't want that anymore. We didn't WANT to be a part of "her world" because her world is ALIEN to us now, alien and unsettling and frankly threatening in some cases. It's not safe for us and that tears my soul to shreds but... I've been pacing the floor about this for months, and no matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard I tried to force myself to care as much as I allegedly did once, as honestly as I could... nothing worked. I just... nothing worked. It's gone.

There was a day when her dreams, her worlds, were something we treasured and wanted nothing more than to be a part of.
Now, I don't recognize any of it.

We felt obligated to support her current work. We felt we HAD to.
But... the more I see what it's become, the more I read of it, the more I see of the fandom, I... I don't like it.
There, I said it. I don't like it. It doesn't speak to me anymore. I can't. I'm legitimately frightened of it now and I DON'T want to support it because it means nothing to me now, and that breaks my heart because there was a time when that story was as beloved to me as my own.
Back then it was something totally different, though. Now, it's not. And I need to let go, and move on, and stop acting like "I owe them one" because they don't give a shit about me and I have no right to ask that to change. I have done NOTHING but cause them pain and frustration and disappointment, all because I keep "acting" like they're the greatest thing in my life when honestly, I have no fcking clue who they are or what they're about.
I don't. I really dont. And I am so, so so sorry, but it's true.


I own some of her artwork. I feel so guilty to own it now. I'll need to sell it, without looking ungrateful, because I'm not. Other people just deserve to have this more than me.


It's so weird. Things keep falling away from me, things that were significant parts of my life for years, unwavering, are suddenly disappearing or crumbling to the ground.
This was one of the biggest. I never expected this. But here it is.
So it's over. I'm no longer part of their dream. I no longer have to feel forced to participate in a dream I don't understand, and don't feel welcome in.
I mean... this used to give me joy. Now, just thinking about it makes me nauseous, because I feel like I HAVE to be an intrinsic part of it, "like I once wanted to be," and I don't. I don't want this anymore. I can't remember when I once did.
I'm sorry, I keep repeating this.
It's just a huge loss, conceptually, whether I feel it or not. This is a HUGE loss, potentially earth-shaking, if I could feel anything, if I could remember anything.


In any case I feel ugly and worthless and terrible now, for what I caused. For what she felt, and perceived, and said.
I feel like a thief and a liar and a back-stabbing jerk and I feel like Judas Iscariot. I feel like the worst betrayer.

I only ever had the best intentions here. I really, really wanted to help her, at the cost of my own success if I had to.
But this isn't the first time I've done that for someone.
This isn't the first time I forgot why I was even doing it in the first place.
This isn't the first hope I've crushed.
This isn't the first "friendship" I've destroyed.
This isn't the first dream I've buried under six feet of concrete.

God willing it will be the last.




I once wanted to be one of them, snow-haired with a diamond smile, pure and free and happy. God I wanted that more than anything, and I was convinced that ONLY SHE could grant that to me, mercifully, graciously.
Now I've lost that chance forever.
It was so close, so close... but... well, now it's gone.
Ten years later, the dream is dead. I've woken up and I'll never have it again.
I need to come to terms with this, once I can really grasp the reality of what I've lost here, ideals and otherwise.

In a way it's freeing. I'm no longer burdened with the awful heavy guilty scared obligation, "you NEED to be a part of this, why the hell haven't you joined them yet, why the hell aren't you acting like them, what the hell kind of a supporter are you," etc.
I didn't realize until this morning that my hesitance was because I no longer understood why I "needed," let alone wanted, any of it.


I've been chasing a phantom for a very very very long time now, I think.
The rainbow I've been tailing faded away a very long time ago, but it was burned so strongly onto my eyelids I didn't notice.


Everything that meant anything to me about that world... I wonder, was it self-generated?
Was it simply because I saw so much of myself and my dreams reflected in it, that I couldn't see what didn't fit? And now that the dissonance is louder than ever, I can't cope with the truth?
I think everything I ever loved about it was all me. I think so. It's heartbreaking. I mean, hell, what the fck did I even know about her story? I wasn't part of her group, I was too scared to intrude, to attempt to join, to speak up at all... I didn't know their history. I didn't know their story. I didn't even know the fcking SOURCE MATERIAL.
I was playing it by ear the ENTIRE FUCKING TIME and now here I am feeling like I lost something?
I think what I really lost was the delusion that her world would adhere to my heart. I blinded myself to what didn't fit, I focused only on the concepts I loved, and then I acted like it was everything I'd ever dreamed of. I'm starting to wonder if it ever was.
God I don't know. This is... this is huge. This is so jarring.


I can't do this anymore.
No matter how desperately I still "wish" I could be a part of that world, that community... it's empty. If I was given a chance, to suddenly and without effort become a big part of it, I think I'd freak out and bail. When I really think about it, I DON'T want to be a part of it anymore. And that's the key.
IT ISN'T JUST ME. IT NEVER WAS.
When it hit me that there was a fandom behind this, a community, that the creator was DIFFERENT than me in several unignorable key ways... I basically bailed. I'm so sorry to say that.
I just... can't do it. I can't do this fandom thing. I've tried. I can't. Does that make me broken, too? I do worry about that.

I know there are so many others that still view it as something dear to their hearts and I am glad for that.
But... I can't. I don't fit in there. I never did. And now I never will.
Whatever it meant to me in the long-distant past, I have retained within myself, as its own concept, as something totally seperate from where I saw it reflected.
It's over. It's over. It's over.

This has been dying for a very very very long time and now, the woman who breathed life into it has signed its death warrant.
The one who began all this has now ended it. Full circle. Unquestionable. Unchangeable.


I fcked up big time, and that's about it.




I'm truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you.
I sincerely only wanted to help you.
I just wasn't capable.
I idolized you to the point where I didn't even know who you were.
I skewed your creations to the point where I didn't realize what they actually were.
I put you so high up on a personal pedestal, I didn't realize it wasn't you at all.
I'm so sorry.
I wish you the very, very, very best.
Continue to build and share your dream.
I may not understand it anymore, but I can see your passion in it, and I am happy for that.
I am so glad you are seeing this dream of yours come to life.
I am glad you were wise enough to stand up to my wrongdoings.
Again, I never meant to appear as such a criminal, but it is only right.
Thank you, for everything you've done to inspire me, in every way.
Thank you, for dreaming so fiercely, and bringing that dream to light.
You are an inspiration to many and that will never change.
May all your endeavors continue to be successful.

This is where we part ways, for better or for worse,
although I may be nothing but a stranger to you.
You were one of the biggest forces in my life, for many years.

Your role in my life was momentous, and your existence profoundly changed mine.
Your work influenced and inspired and motivated me in so many ways.
Again, I am grievously sorry for what I have done in my foolishness.
I do not hate you, I wish you no harm.
I cannot continue down this road but I will shake your hand here before it's over.
Trippy, you gave me courage when once I had none,
and I can never thank you enough for that.

Keep creating. Keep dreaming. Keep coloring the lives of others.
If there is anyone in the world who I have the utmost faith in to do that,
it's you.
Thank you.

 

 

 

 

july 16 2015

 

 

 

today is not a good day

my mother came home and all she is doing is screaming to my grandparents (who are vehemently agreeing) about what a fcking horrible person i am, pointing out all my flaws and struggles and mistakes, guilt-tripping me into feeling like an utter fcking disgrace and failure and shame upon the family
this is normal
and she has EVERY RIGHT TO BE SAYING THAT.

is this divine retribution?
is this what i get for seeing myself as filthy and irredeemable for so many years?
is this what i get for painting myself as the villain?
it comes true?


i am very very very sad and sick of my life to the point of total numbness
another day gone to self-abuse, counting down to my next work shift in the morning
god how do i cope with this

my grandmother told me flat-out today "if you feel so unworthy of money then give me all your money instead"
i felt sick to my stomach
yeah i feel unworthy because i feel fcking filthy no matter what i do
i don't deserve to sleep, don't deserve to eat
i don't deserve comfort or ease in life
i'm a filthy fcking idiot and i deserve to SUFFER
because you have to bleed in order to be good right?
you have to bleed in order to be forgiven right?
if you do something bad you have to be punished right?

shitheads like me don't deserve money
so i sabotage all my successes because i feel blasphemous by having good things
horrible stains on existence dont deserve to have good things
maybe i should give her all my money
after i pay off my debts
god all my life i only ever spend my money on two things:
1) gifts for other people
2) food.
and when i buy food it's usually because "someone else/ the voices told me to"
and then i feel so FILTHY and GUILTY for buying it that i destroy it
therefore destroying my money
because if i'm that fcking stupid i don't deserve to eat

this negativity is a neverending spiral and it is so hard to get out of.


there goes the mother literally swearing about me
she never uses profanity so this is terrifying
she's hitting things and making a lot of noise
god i am so so so so so so so sorry i never meant for my self-torture to hurt other people but i'm so fcking blind
i forget that other people exist around me, and that my actions have consequences
i shred my existence and then i'm legitimately surprised when other people get cut on the shards all over the floor


i think the universe is trying to tell me something.
today is bad enough
then we have the trouble with laurie and tiger lily
and all the screaming floating voices all the time

but
all my evil is being pointed out
all my mistakes are being highlighted in screaming yellow
all my flaws are being lit on fire so i can't ignore them anymoer
i am a horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE person
i am a hypocrite and a thief and a liar
i am a selfish angry manipulative brat
i am stupid and whiny and foolish and unwise
i am ugly and embarrassing and inappropriate
i am a fcking SINNER just by existing i am a FLAW on this earth
i am fcking horrible, horrible, horrible

she
i don't think she understood
i
when she said "i guess we were wrong"
i've forgiven her (i dont think those are the right pronouns i'm sorry)
i forgave you i really did
i know i hurt you so so so badly.
you had every right in the book to say that.
you were right.
you were right.
you were absolutely right.

but
i dont think you realized how stupid fcking messed-up i am
where i would take it so badly
in other worse, you never meant to hurt me.
there was no malice in your words.
i was just too fcking guilty to ignore the projected gunshot to the head.

"you act like a nice person but you're ROTTEN TO THE CORE."

that's my biggest fear

and with how life is going lately,
i'm afraid it's been proven true



what do i do
god what do i do

does "god" hate me?
whatever the hell is posing as "god" in that committee of faceless screamers all around my head
does it hate me?

is "anyone up there" benevolent?
does anyone care?
am i worthy of being cared about?
or am i such a heathen
such an insolent human fool
that they'd be happy to see me dead?

i'm afraid of the wrath of "gods and goddesses"
i feel that they ALL despise me and want me dead
i am so so so scared
because i know i deserve it

god what do i do

what do i do



i can't go "back" to headspace, i'm not from there
i'm a stupid social whatever person i'm on the outside
the inside doesnt exist for me

it exists for other people but those people don't exist in the physical
and all this shit lately is so so so physical
so depressed suicidal people like me are out
filthy ugly sinful disgraceful people like me are out


god i dont know what to do.

i need to stop with this "fake friend" bullshit on tumblr
people i never ever talk to but who i am "kissing up to" because i "have to" i dont' even KNOW them
that's why we "lost" all our dA friends they were never "friends" because WE weren't a friend
we were a maniupalative mask-wearing sonofabitch with a painted on smile
we were shit
we still are shit

the family hates me
i know. every day they get angrier
i dont want to be a freak
i dont want to be a burden
but it is so hard to stop, i AM TRYING, i swear i am trying so hard,
they hate me
my brothers avoid me they go out of their way to avoid me
the mother and her boyfriends are always saying how they cant stand me
it hurts to hear them talk, it's just scathing diatribe
the grandparents are two-faced, they say they care but some of the things they say are just
"we mean well" but what youre saying is so toxic and they just cant tell

god i am sick to my stomach
another day full of nothing but vomiting and self-torture
i still need to exercise but i cant even leave this room because THEYRE out thre

god i want to cry
what is this "god" i'm praying to i dont even know anymore

i want to cry
i dont want to wake up
i have work in the mornig
i always have work in the mornng'
how do i live the restof the day with a job i dont know
its too much total switching its this damn HOUSE
i dont want to go home
i dont want to go on the fcking road
i dont want to do this fcking bullshit shpping stop telling me i HAVE TO I DONT
i am so fcking tired


no therapy for two weeks
god give me strength
got a couple suicide chatrooms and hotlines bookmarked
we never use them they're shit
we tried they are no help at all
but its the thought that counts

headspace helps
needs a new name, less "controlling" sounding
the spectrum
all our people inside
they help. always.
always always always
how ironic they are the ONLY good thing in my life
the physical life, mind
(leagueworlds dont touch the daily life they are separate from this shit)
how terrible that i always think they're "bad"
and try to kil them
to be "normal"
but normal is SHIT
IT'S SHIT OKAY
WE'VE BEEN TRYING AND LOOK AT US NOW
THIS IS SHIT AND I WANT TO DIE.


life is falling apart
the universe keeps showing me just how fcked up i am
without pointing to any soolutions
besides total self-annihilation.
and i guess that's it then
the only option
to annihilate myself
ONLY me, mind
and the other ones like me
there are better people in the spectrum im sure
but the suicidal shitheads likeme
the filthy ones
we need to die
and i'm not scared of dying if igt means someone nice will take over
but dying is hard
and i'm so sad
and i'm so tired


i want to throw up
what is life
what am i doing
what is our purpose
why are we alive
what the hell are we supposed to do
do we have any reason to live
do we have any right to live
is our life just a chain on everyone elsee's feet
are we just a problem to be solved

 

 

 

y

One thing I've realized lately is that I'm not sure who you are.
It's a strange feeling, because I KNOW that we were rather close at one time? I know we talked a lot. I know you talked TO LAURIE for heavens sakes, a few times even, all in a non-triggered environment. That's a flat guarantee that you meant a lot to us.
But I don't remember. I want to know why.


Lately, "my" lack of memory has been a surreal fact nagging at the back of my mind. So much that we apparently once valued, or considered a part of daily life, or even of our identity is just... gone. That, or it's totally alien now, totally foreign.



I'm aware that someone sat up on the roof with you once. I'm aware that someone sat in the attic with you there afterwards. But I don't know who that was.
I'm aware that we went to the one canyon with you, there was a photo of us at the top of some rocky cliff, up near some trees. I don't remember being there, I don't remember climbing. Q took photos of you and me sitting by the water, with sketchbooks and poetry. I don't remember that at all either.
I'm aware that we went hiking with you, and Q, and Xilats. I know it was a fantastic day and I'm aware that we enjoyed it immensely. I know we talked to Xilats constantly. But I don't remember being there at all. At all.

I'm sorry. I have no idea "who" you knew, when "we" were with you, back then. All I have is secondhand data, like a videotape or a photo album. I've looked at it enough to remember the looking, but I wasn't there. Everything is third person, or fuzzy and vague, like a video game first-person feeling. I'm not actually in the screen, so to speak.


But I do remember some things. Not many, but some.


I remember that one camp we went to, very dimly, just location snapshots.
I remember sitting on the floor in your basement, watching something, either 10th Kingdom or a Ghibli movie.
I remember a snapshot of a family dinner in your kitchen, I was reading a sci-fi book at the time.
I remember watching Up in your living room, just a flicker. But I know we watched it.
I remember the vibe of your family's house, vaguely, but solid enough around the edges to feel like a dream I had once.
I remember the smell of your room, perfectly somehow.
I remember waking up one morning, after I had that Reshiram dream, and just looking about at it-- the books, the clothes, the door. It's not a clear memory, but it's the clearest one I have from then.
I remember hugging you in front of the balcony windows the day we left in 2012, and feeling oddly sad, because I hadn't gotten to know you, and I then knew I'd never get the chance to again.

I don't remember your voice. I don't remember your face.
I've seen so many people like you since you left, everything is jumbled.
I get scared sometimes. Did I ever know you at all?
There are still feeble efforts to talk between us, once in a blue moon. I'm never sure how to respond.
This can't be fixed, I don't think it should, I'm not who we were then, I don't KNOW who we were then....
...I don't know you.
But they do. She does. He does. You have friends and family and you are happy. Keep that. You really, really don't need me.

Everything from the timeline in which we knew you is a blur, a cloud, a photo from a whole different lifetime.
But it happened. Somewhere, sometime, it happened, to someone we don't know anymore.
And you knew us. You knew us. No matter how we slice it, you knew us, however dimly. We existed around you, and that is enough.

I keep feeling there's something I need to do about this but it makes no sense. I don't understand and it hurts, it pulls at me and makes my eyes tear up.
I don't WANT to be who we were when we knew you, okay? I was TOXIC back then. Our life, our situation, was TOXIC back then!
I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK.
I don't want to put that mask on again. Ever. I don't EVER want to be who we were back then, ever again.
That's why this hurts. THAT'S who you knew. That's who you loved, so you say.
I don't know who that person was and I do not want to know because I don't want them coming back.

I'm sorry. I owe you an apology for things I can't remember and don't understand. I've tried so many times and it never feels right.
I don't even know what I'm trying to say here anymore. I'm sorry.


I remember just enough of our distant, dreamlike time with you, for it to be something interesting and significant.
But I've forgotten reams more.
What I have are paper fragments, when the whole book has been burnt.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for not being who you met, and befriended, and knew.
I'm sorry that I cannot and should not ever be that person again.
I'm sorry that I don't even know WHO that person was.
I'm sorry that I've forgotten virtually all of it.
I'm sorry that I've forgotten virtually all of you.
I'm sorry that I have no idea what we had, and I cannot rebuild it if you wanted to.



And yet we remember holding you that night you were shaking in your sleep.
Someone loved you then and we would never deny that feeling, no matter how distant or old.

That's what hurts the most about this.
I wish that person had his/her own life so that they could be with you.
But you've changed now, too. You're no longer that person you were 5 years ago, as far as we know.
And we're time-locked. That kid is stuck in that memory for all time, and that's what aches.


I'm sorry. I'm really really confused.

Thank you for allowing us to have the memories we have, from our time with you.

I just don't think it's enough to go on anymore.