《The book of forever》


 Prologue: The eternal story

    From hark comes but a whimpering whisper, but a breeze on the north sent winds... ever blown. The sound of but a deathly voice lying, on an ash ground raked tenforth or more times. The whispering winds tell us of stories, and so they come seeketh a shelter now. I the historian, lecturer, scribe. A man of many long names, yet one life; shall give stories to last immemoriam. From but a small village brought up by sages, brought up by the withering, those of age. Wisdom was passed down to me, a dream lost¡­ Of who can I ask for a close embrace? Of who will not pain me to ever grief? The lives of humans are fickle yet I¡­ The lives so short and swift, am I¡­ human?


    It¡¯s the will of almost all of them to¡­ live forever, smile forever, and not¡­ not one of those things can exist with ¡®nother. Yet no peace nor smiles will bless their face, the earth chaining them to a grave long gone. The wind had scratched the names off, smoothness remains, the immortals wander but a corpse now¡­ Man had long found immortality by... my birth alone with the graves of knowledge. Sages past but a whisper immortalized; books holding their wisdom ever to mourn. If not a fitting grave for those forgot, forgot by all but the knowing, known ones.


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    Who am I to say? But a boy born now, one born where knowledge is plenty yet few, few dare to take it themselves, stuck in fear¡­ fear and eternal, willful, ignorance¡­ The world has long gone to ruin, few stayed, an arc to the heavens above lifted; the few who remained too poor and disheveled¡­ A religion sprouted up, fear of words, the ones who abandoned them to this grave¡­ they¡­ they were very fond of these old things¡­


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    Who knows? They are all the old ones left long¡­ long ago¡­ Let me tell you, a story by the last¡­ The last ¡°true¡± humans, who knows if they live?


    I will tell you the tale of many old, some stories lost to time, others in rhyme. Some stories are dubious in nature, others, certainty in the present time. I hope you enjoy, the stories before...

 Chapter 1: The old ones.

    The wind blew fast and hard on the last day, the last day this earth would see human life; a sad smile etched the face... leaving day¡­ A day of both celebration and loss. The final ark, the last vestige of man, was set to a straight course for the far stars, ever past the horizon far from reach. Life had been found one hundred years ago, We descended from pods not long after, now..? we were finally going home¡­ ¡°home¡±...


    The ark was ready, named after old myth, said to bring salvation to the life here. Now? It was used to leave it¡­ stranded¡­ gone¡­ We were cowards, too afraid of the change; the change which the evolution brought forth; not a plague, nor pestilence, a new epoch.


    ¡°A new beginning for us all¡± they said


    ¡°A new life full of whimsy and wonder¡± they said


    However grasping such powers they changed, lost to primal urges now awakened. We¡­ We were also enticed, thirsty, lost¡­ however¡­ brought back, brought back from this rave; we sought to return to what we once had¡­ No, we did not, they did not, lose themselves¡­ rather¡­ the time caused them to forget self. Elves you can call them, long eared aberates, once but creatures of myth with endless life. First there was famine, endless people feed; Then there was slaughter, starvation and greed; Then there was savagery, dark ages past, they told of a time when libraries burned. Is this the second coming of the dark?


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    The elves which returned from this time forgot, endless lives, limited memories pass, pass between the inner core to the mind. Seeking to not return to a time they¡­ they burned what we wrote ¡­ long¡­ long¡­ long ago. Seeking to live forever they regressed. Now but a few tree huggers afraid of¡­ what they had. Living to forever is but a dream, they sought to make the earth last eons later, their endless lives creating endless fear, fear that they¡¯ll see the desolation thrive. The elves brought war onto humanity, they forgot their own roots rejecting past. Now acting grander than thou, better than¡­ Untold brutality went to rebels.


    And so we leave¡­


    And so we leave¡­


    And so we leave¡­


    And so we fade...


    ¡°Until history is revived like flame, a phoenix which cannot ever be snuffed¡±

 Chapter 2: A simple dream.

    Death is always a scary thing, unknown; we fear what is obscured, the other side, every day a race closer to end. Many deaths, preventable. Death? Certain. Atleast¡­ at least until this very time. The Epoch of a new age, a new life; from research we have overcome shackles, shackles lain on our bodies since our births. No man was free from them, nor creature ¡®like, we have overcome death itself yet why¡­ Why does my heart beat so uneasily? Yet why do I feel weaker than before?


    The experiment continued as such, from a altar to science itself, death¡­ Death would be slain for the very first time, like a dagger into it¡¯s cold dead heart, I could feel the air stop, time stop, life stop¡­ This experiment had been done countless, countless times before. Not by me, nor us, instead humanity has always ran, ran from this primal fear inside of us. Was it right to oppose the sleeping gods? Was it right to take their domain from them? I do not know, all I know is a hope, A hope for a future without cold tears¡­


    Before me now stood a god, at least close, closer than what we have had seen before. He looks around, then down to his hands, same; the same hands he has always had since birth. He looks around, then into the mirror. It is again the same, there is no change. Had the experiment failed, had they failed? No, I had a feeling, a gut feeling. Some part of me knew that he was slight¡¯ changed. Was it his height? No¡­ Was it his eyes? Yes¡­ There was something missing, maybe he saw. The patient stared into the mirror, age, his eyes had lost the age and weariness. The same in every way, yet unique... A creature-


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    ¡°Can you stop staring so we can begin? Begin the test I mean, It¡¯s quite cold here.¡±


    The specimen interrupted, strangely¡­ strangely he felt lighter, his tone brash, young. Far younger than he sounded just before, a man almost certain of his casket. Far younger at least, maybe he would live¡­


    What he didn¡¯t know was that he was right, he would live... he would live longer than most. He was the first elf, at least what we called, He was the first elf, yet also the least? Perhaps it was because he lived before, before an era with such a lone kin, unhindered by life and death¡¯s eternal grasp.


    ¡°Me? I got a great paycheck, did I regret? No...¡±

 Interlude 2: Epoch.

    The room was silent, bated breaths all ¡®round, looking at the researchers I felt fear, fear and anticipation, a weird mix. Clothed in only the finest white silk gown, clothed in clothes for the dead, pristine, spotless. If this went well they said it¡¯d be painless, If this went badly, I fear to think what. Taking out a needle, a guillotine, taking out a needle, revolution. Something which could change the world, or my life¡­ I had been prior locked in wards of kinds, in a hospital yet closer? Death row. I felt more like one consigned to quick death, Incurable, as good as a cadaver, Curable, they then told me, fool was I. The room was still silent, my thoughts fast, quick. A million miles in a second, yet it felt like my heart was eve¡¯ faster. The needle came close to my arm, tremors¡­ I could feel tremors from my sickly heart. My body started to move, shaking fast, the researchers started to move, restrain. I was not afraid, I was bound to die; is a small chance not better than stillness?


    I met my two eyes with a researcher, the needle plunged into me, pulsating. Something was pulsing from within my arm. From my veins to my heart, then out again. Something had changed, the movement of the air?


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    The air felt lighter, incomparable, There is no way I could miss the strangeness¡­ Was I not wracked with pain every breath? Was I not going to die to this thing? I looked down at the needle, it was gone, the strange solution which once laid inside, it was present, now... now inside of me. I looked up at the researcher again, my eyes no longer blurry from my age, as if I could have always seen clearly¡­ and in that moment I felt it, fear¡­ joy? What surprised me were not those emotions, Instead the act of sensing them like so¡­


    I was different. Never again sick. I¡¯m different. Never again human.


    ¡°I could feel it, the epoch of my era. Never again I tell you¡­ a catalyst, a catalyst for change and bright. Gold. Hope. Never again will I feel powerless.¡±

 Chapter 3: An optimistic future, for those who can afford it.

    The shackles upon us lifted away, chains once holding us no longer hard stay, instead unbound freedom everlasting. We have done a grand achievement, dreams past, dreams now a reality placed on us. First there was celebration! Then a sigh. Only those desperate, or rich could try. Trickling first to the rich, the very rich. Then down to the desperate, arm and leg. Then down to the common man, however¡­ who knows how long that would take? Years? Ages? A striking cost unimaginable, who could buy something so so expensive? Eternal life? Those desperate enough¡­ They? They paid with a debt of 2 lifetimes. However things are good, death is quite low. Health care is improving, much like ¡®ago. Yet¡­ It feels strange, I privileged enough, lucky enough, feel so¡­ unsatisfied? I should be jumping for joy! Yet why do¡­


    A rumbling in the traincar surprised me, as I went through the town on trolley wheels. Normally it was quite calm and stable? I wonder what happened far in the front? ¡°Do not be confused, there are some problems¡­¡± The voice trailed off, instead being washed out. Later I would learn that someone had begged, begged on the trail track for food and water¡­ were they that poor? How unexpected, no matter, small things.


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    The trolley continued its small venture, a trip through the town to it¡¯s very heart. Once again reaching my stop like days past, I disembarked and met myself with friends, no¡­ acquaintances i¡¯ve known for decades. We had met decades ago at our work, I was but a intern then however¡­ now we were equals, it was fated so. Thinking that thought I broke into a grin. I had taken out a loan long ago, yet now i¡¯ve paid it back, where do I go? What horizons wait for me. Possible¡­ are my dreams, infinite wealth and glory. Who can stop me from that? A lifetime¡¯s short.


    ¡°100 years is a long time you know? I¡¯m glad I took that loan, my future glows.¡±

 Interlude 3: Disparity.

    The train went by at the same time again, a time consistent with days past, then, stop. It went to an instantaneous halt, near so anyways, a screeching sounded. The wheels scraped on metal, breaks on cold steel. A man was kneeling in front of the tracks. Then I saw it, then I didn¡¯t. Away. I looked away and pretended, saw not. The man was kneeling, picking something up. A few bread crumbs, likely for the small birds. Did he not know where he was ? no¡­ maybe¡­ he was desperate? It was hard to work, or, it was harder to find a job now. No one hired untrained workers, less so¡­ the decrept, they were a touchy subject. Weaker bodies and even shorter lives. No one wanted to hire someone slow, No one wanted to befriend someone dead¡­ This was a era for the fast, swift youths! Alas however even for the young, it is hard; I had not eaten in days, able bodied yet inexperienced. I could only rely on family. My grandfather providing for our lot. Although strange, unjust, I was barely worth.


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    What is the world for the unqualified? I who has little, no experience. But my few years working even shorter. How do I climb? There is no path past them. The ones who have been in the business long. The ones who have taken vacations long, longer than my life itself. The very young, neither do they have a place here, nor old. Only the young old are valued, ageless. They might be called undying yet to me? I¡¯ve seen them die, leaving everyone. My friend of many years past left us lone. He is still alive, yet to him we died. Our lives will expire before he grows. We could have never been friends he told us. The day he changed, he died, at least inside.


    It¡¯s a golden ticket, a new strange world. The intoxication of forever, who can resist such a thing¡­ very few. I cannot blame him, I seek it myself.


    ¡°I can blame him, for I am human. To be human is to be flawed, They. Are.¡±

 Chapter 4: A brighter future

    We have expanded across the known world, our civilization now at its peak. Death rates drop by every coming day, truly I am blessed to live in this time. Standing, the apex of society, from here I can see grandiose futures, from here my worries shorten as I laugh. My friends of two hundred years by my side, an infinite future in front of us; The possibilities make me shudder. Joining the second generations group, I never once doubted I¡¯d end up here. Standing on this ark over the blue world, A gem which shines among the brightest stars. Where else can you find such life, varied kins. Where else can you find laughter in silence? I¡¯ve not lived a short life by any means, however I cannot wish for much more.


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    However the world is slowly rotting, from it¡¯s corners to it¡¯s very blue core. The young ones lack foresight, I shall guide them. I dream of forever, they dream of feast; I dream of tomorrow, they struggle now. Such brightness would it be to have freedom, not even I am unafraid of death, can I escape to the stars for slumber? No¡­ there is no better place than right here, at least we have not yet found it, empty. The search for a second world to feed us, one untouched by human greed, need; one we can have for ourselves, ones called ¡°elves¡±. Our search has been futile, but life¡¯s long. Let''s hope that in but a few short decades, we see a utopia brighter than.


    ¡°The stars dim compared to humanity, but can we search for something brighter than¡­?¡±

 Interlude 4: A hopeless future

    The streets were crowded like the day before, the people ever rushing to get food. Food has increased in price lately, slowly. Slowly but surely prices had raised since, the days of my youth but few decades past. I¡¯ve heard stories from my elders, aging. They tell of a time when food was cheaper, Part inflation, part supply and demand. The population has grown far too high, the earth beneath us no longer plenty. What was once vast but generations past, now struggles to hold even a fraction. Every day I see more and more starve, Everyday less and less people die; it¡¯s just not sustainable, never was. We¡¯ve always been going closer to max, the max capacity of mouths to feed. Like a family in the slums with much, much burden and hunger the young will starve. Where one child is fine, two and three much; 8 or 9 are impossible to feed, at least well, even as good as old times.


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    Innovations are always coming now, a new way to farm or to feed cattle, however even then so is our growth. Like a tumor my father put it we, we are killing the earth and people round. We wouldn¡¯t be in this position if¡­ if the elves didn¡¯t keep on festering, every day they take more jobs from us, the poor and inexperienced lessers. Soon there will be more elves than people here, their unaging nature growing rapid. Their wealth blinding and feeding them throughout. The politicians are all now elves, every high paying position too. How can I feed my family like this? Become an elf? No¡­ The rewards are slow, The upfront cost far too high, they will die; far before I become rich. Little hope.


    ¡°The elves are a cancer, the very rich. But I am powerless, ¡®well as hopeless. I can only wait for change, a coward...¡±

 Chapter 5: Boiling point

    The elves remember for a long, long time; their grudges almost as long as their lives. Their vanity and pride even stronger. How is it that petty squabbles last long, so long that to us it last a lifetime? We starve while they live in lavish homes, mansions earned in but a fraction of life. To them but a few weeks, to us but years. Is there no fairness in this world? Justice? We can work for our whole lives yet still starve; while they can work for but a fraction rich. Why has no one stood up to their great greed? Because we can barely feed ourselves now; how will we fight. We are but fodder here.


    If we wage war we will surely die first, perhaps with innovation we can fight. Perhaps underground we can innovate. There are rumors of rebelion young, but a few at this point yet with promise. Tensions rise with the hour, tears are spilled. The starving mother feeding their child, they will become symbols of our great change. Were the elves a mistake? Called a cancer, a blight upon our once thriving bright world. Once a of promise, now greed, scarcity. My father always hated the old elves, my grandfather grew to hate them as well. We were better off, but what is better? What is better when everyone starves.


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    We are reaching an inflection point now, a deciding point where we will see what¡­ What will become of the humans, of us. I see no path to coexist, at least... at least for much longer than what we have¡­


    ¡°Like water just below boiling point, all it takes is a small match in the flame. We wait for that match, we prepare for that...¡±

 Interlude 5: A strange prenotion

    A time of great celebration the sky, embraced in bright colorful blue green lights; just another kind of celebration. A peak for this lonely single nation. Suddenly questions sprout fourth, and enforce; this innate sense of unease, will we please? The crowd parts like a split stream, far too real. The festivities fall at their own seams, someone had died, laying on his one side. The mood drops to a frigid low, looking. I look in great shock and awe, the poor thralls; They have begun to revolt, a sole bolt, sticks out of ones head, a murder instead. Is this revolution the tensions high? The two classes separate like oceans, in between no one will ever reside. Barely hidden, their dreams usurping us, like a match to a pile of saw dust.


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    Getting to the sides the crowd kept parting, like a tide they did on go separate; My legs well toned, quick footed aberates. I ran for safety, like never run before, however, silent, the room was once more. Quickly enforcement came in, wearing thin. Quickly the perpetrator caught, for not; for not a single was killed; the tension, it still has not stilled, my beating quick heart, they could have been quiet, yet peace been not.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid of what''s to come, let me pray. Just manslaughter yet why does it beat so? My aching heart and instinct¡¯s burning flame.¡±

 Chapter 6: Waking up from a perfect fantasy, was it inevitable?

    The war from the luddites, scared of the change; The war of the commons, wanting great change. The common man stuck in between, or two¡­ Are the elves and humans the same, conflict. I watch as the world goes on, peacefulness; yet on the borders of my perception, I can see only red and flashing steel. I look over our maps, our history, was this war inevitable as tears? Like two sides of a coin, rebels spread quick, as if oil and water, not to mix. A two front war is what I see ahead, yet at the moment it but simmers slow. Only a few outlying gunshots sound, yet more sound every coming night¡¯s day. I see the signs, we¡¯ve seen the signs, yet not; yet not one dares to stop the struggle pains, yet not one tries to pacify, instead¡­ Instead they choose to drink and harvest wealth, instead they are blinded by long calm lives.


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    A war hasn¡¯t happened for a while, far more slow to act yet quick to simmer, we have reached an unsteady peace throughout. A war hasn¡¯t happened for a while, but it¡¯s inevitable that blood flows, thicker than water and more hesitant, no one wants to shoot the first shot. Can I pacify the rebels, concede? Concede power built over my lifetime? What should I do, I am at an impasse. Pacify the commons and change too much, pacify the old ones, regress, retract. There seems to be no way to keep moving.


    ¡°We can only prepare for the war, cold; it has not yet boiled over for us. Either pacification would hasten, either pacification would weaken. We cannot move back, only fast forwards; our fragile peace but a short night''s dream, a dream, intoxicated fantasy¡­¡±

 Interlude 6: Weak willed, strong discontent. The cry of those who are too weak to change anything.

    The sound of people drinking could be heard, a red blushed man sat at the round table, two others accompany him nearby. Sitting and drinking with him as they talk. A fist slams on the table, the cups shake. A look of belligerent fever glows, his face red from both drinking and anger. ¡°They can¡¯t do this to us¡± he says to them, ¡°It¡¯s the 3rd time this year they have raised them¡± he utters, anger clearly present now. The look of the others are no calmer, clearly their own angers to be had now. The ones they were talking about unsaid, they needed no name, the men knew too well.


    A second thud hits the table, second. The second man to his right stands upright. ¡°We can¡¯t just sit around and do nothing, they think of us as sheep and weak cattle!¡± he says with righteous indignation bright. As if to oppose the heavens themselves, he raises a fist high now. ¡°Damn it all, damn it all to hellfire¡± he scours.


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    The third man, just siting there silently. ¡°What can we do?¡± he ask, his knuckles white. ¡°Can we even change anything being weak? ¡®Don¡¯t have power, they look down on us¡± he says, calmer than the rest but angered.


    The second falls back into his old seat. ¡°We¡¯ll wait, till someone else does something soon¡­¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t stay this way for long now can it? Surely someone else will do something soon¡­? It¡¯s not just us that feel this way i¡¯m sure¡­¡±

 Chapter 7: To those with wavering convictions

    A camp from within the war zone we sit, the perspective of someone who fast bit, bit the bullet and gone away, to war! The sound of a early morning and shots, the sound of muzzles flaring hot with lead, trenches built out from broken rock ground, once a city, now full of war and hounds. Looters, Rebels, The Army you soon see, a mix of the fortunate, and less see. A strange peace built on tensions sky clouds high! The marching of the army walks through camp, clothing damp with mist and salty warm sweat. As always there were the drills; munitions, they were running shorter fast.


    A mans gaze looks over the camp, rebels, they had sent him here onto this war front. Fed up with their status, lazily earned, they sought to take from the country which housed, pitiful yes, harmful more than helpful, that too. But the war isn¡¯t that simple, it never is, yet he¡¯d like to close them, his eyes which shook with guilt and confusion. This was a choke point, a turning point ¡°A¡±, one of the locations most important, a place which held much significance first, emotionally at least it was core, the heart of the country which stood since long. The morale of the troops were low, confused. Not few of them were once inhabitants, this city they called home, the rest wished to. This was the city of dreamers, past tense, the place where the first immortal stood high. Where people could go to one day rise high. But that was now forgotten memory, the walls were boarded up or leveled down. To who would want to live here longer still? The man stood up, straightened his uniform, barked a order to his hounds, sat back down.


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    The guilt from the things he ordered stayed strong, lingering past the smokescreen and white noise, his palms trembling as he plucked a thread, even his uniform bright had been worn. Even his once bright convictions worn dark. Was this war worth it? The crimes on people, people who he may have met on the street, once¡­ or twice¡­ in a past life long ago¡­


    He had ordered gunfire onto them, masses which had no face nor name to speak, masses full of soldiers of another, he had done nothing wrong, yet why did it¡­ his heart, why did it shake with the sun rays. He gives a sigh, a quiet, subdued one.


    ¡°Why is it so tiresome? Why do I¡­¡±


    The sound of unrest and bullets sounds out, his thoughts and regrets would need to wait now¡­


    ¡°At arms men! It is time to go to war!¡±

 Interlude 7: To those without strong goals or direction.

    From silence comes noise in but a second, like a fuse lit tensions and smoke rose high. We could smell it, those living near the edge, the edge of where it would affect most, first. It¡¯s always those who are in the middle, the ones who are in the middle that pain. Us who just try to carve out simple lives, we are the first to be drafted in war, in a war we didn¡¯t pick, just gun shots. There were two factions, three¡­ no... four or more. Things are never black and white in the time, only historians later can say. The fog of tomorrow, this cloud infront, it blocks out certainty and cold reason. We can have death, turmoil, and treason, nothing more, nothing less, no time to rest.


    It was a simple day when it all began, this fuse reaching it¡¯s end, igniting war. As if the gods of war themselves all rose, they gave a edict for all of us, ¡°live¡±. This was the only desire, to live. What more could I hope for? Something primal. This primal desire to run, to fight, for what I cannot say, war is greedy¡­ I doubt that this war is for good intent, I heard that those in the slums have grumbled, grumbled about the state of the era, I heard that those high up have grumbled too. Whoever set off the first shot, set all. I hid in the basement for the first days, unsure of times ahead, waiting for help. I left the basement the week after, gone¡­ gone were the streets I walked before this war, instead hollow shells made of stone and wood. The souls of the buildings were long¡­ long gone. That day I looked around, trying to find. What did I look for? Someone who knew what, what to do when the world crumbles around.


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    ¡°The streets are ruins, empty and soulless, the sky is grey from the fires and pain. Who are they fighting against, me? You? Them? I¡¯m unsure, unsure if any of this, What will become of me without a job, without a place to stay and sleep calmly? I should get going now... where? I¡¯m unsure¡­ Anywhere but here, no reason to stay¡±

 Interlude 7.5: To those with strong faiths.

    The sun lit up the campgrounds, the forest, it was starting to invade the ruins. Like weeds or perhaps a festering mold, within ruin came life and healing seeds. While the scene was bleek, many dead in hopes, hopes of destroying what once was, to save, save what will be in the future far long. Many of them were too weak, short sighted. Their grasp of time within their lifespans short, only a century or two with health. Unable to see that the world has died, with each heartbeat another piece crumbles. They had seen the world regress, dried to dust. The air becoming proliferated, smog, smoke, dust, tears, that was all they made clear. Making life slightly easier short term, only to throw it away later lost.


    A woman hummed, the task she was given, one neither full of pride nor shame, to fight. Much like the others around her she fought, for her eternal life drove her towards it, a desire to live, live longer than¡­ A desire to laugh under the sun, without fog made from smoke and dust black grey. Call it selfishness, it irrational, call it whatever you will they feared much. Each passing day she, and the ones around, they felt the cries of the earth mother pierce.


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    Like a dying hospital patient sick, or her boss which was health and sickness old, the earth was dying, and it, her only. A constant which does not change, neither war, nor famine sickness and smoke has parted. While people separate, their bonds fade, the earth has never left her embrace warm. A constant companion, within strange times, this certainty grounded her, so she fought. Fought against the progression of thousands, to reverse the earth back to simple times. A world of purity, a paradise.


    ¡°The death of a few are worth the many, if we have to regress, to progress, I¡­ I will do what I must to live longer¡­¡±

 Chapter 8: Winding down

    The war long fought, uneasy for long times, eventually burned down, luddites winning. The lower class as well, however hell. Hell was all that awaited them after, weak and exhausted, victorious last, ready to rest, yet none would quickly come, the world was pushed to an era of lost, the laboratories which first made the elves, they burned, but that was not their end, they knew¡­


    The country, the empire, on two sides. How could they win while the richest fought, how could they win when the poorest fought too? The rich and the poor, the lack of morale. It was a losing battle, one quick lost. Many predicted it from the start yet¡­ many forgot, in their optimism, they overlooked the other side for war. The rebels celebrated, the luddites? They did what luddites do, destroy, regress.


    Without technology, at least money, the rebels could do little, slowly at first but through many long years, the longer thinking elves whittled at it, first through mutual grand celebration, then to daily life so, so slow and calm, the people regressed, the humans weakened. Unnoticed at first, powerless second, the humans could do nothing but return, they returned to a dark age where knowledge¡­ was shunned,


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    ¡°We call this the era of loss, the dark, a time when humans were subservient thralls, unable to do any more than look at them, for they were the only ones who lived then, they, for their long lives knew much more than them frail, their locked lips holding the future and past, living in the luxury of the past, yet subjecting others to the further. You could not find a more selfish people.¡±


    The elves¡­ less were made now, only children, raised from a young age, indoctrinated, could hope to become these godly beings. The common man? How could they compare to...? Technology at a impasse, faded, memories of the golden age fading. Man now unambitious and like livestock. Unable to fight against their uppers, trained, aged. The future looked dark, the future was dark.


    ¡°While they lived in luxury, knowledge, the people in poverty, ignorance. How could they fight back? Not any closer, the rich and the poor have only drifted more so. The rebels fought their war for not, but pawns. But pawns for those who could see farther than¡­¡±

 Interlude 8: Simpler times

    The sky was bright as another day came, the town sted in all its glory was calm. To what could we owe this strange peace, after? To what could we owe this silence still drift? The time of a thousand years, dynasties. Dynasties of man came and fell, the elves; they kept a steady eye on the people, taking any which had promise themselves, ¡°A honor¡± they called it, dine with the gods. Yet those which were taken were never seen, either kept for a generations time, or killed off like a pestilence forgot. A honor or a sentence, who could say? Many came willingly, some spat at them. So an era of peace and farming came, the time of great inventions now forgot, the libraries of old, all in ruin.


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    A few remembered, the books which lain low, a few remembered, the elves above high, a few remembered, told through stories long, but more forgot, too many drowned their tears. Now in decline, a slow, unnoticed fall, we return to a age of old quiet. Yet few would not forget, yet few rebels¡­ remained, a new enemy at their door.


    ¡°The elves, the godly beings made by us¡­¡±

 Chapter 9: A dream, An endless slumber

    It had been a century since the war, now something spoken only in whispers, an age of myth some looked at fondly set. It was a time of great innovation, the gods themselves took form, at least¡­ they¡¯re called. Yet in words people did not forget yet, the diaries and writings too plenty, they could not all be burned, only suppressed. Slowly¡­ A year is short, decade longer, yet with slow and steady pressure even¡­ even the books would forget, faded thoughts. So¡­ some historians took the mantle, a job of great risk, under the mountains. The world has entered a dark age, like past. They wished to hold on, just one more days time, for they would emerge when the gods slumbered. Like they did, even before the gods borne. Unlike back then however, the gods wept, their tears lasting longer than a lifetime, the gods wept, for the lives of humans lost. The historians noticed, after time, lost time never regained drifted away. They could not stay here, they could not rot long. Impatient as they were, they hoped, they cried.


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    Even the most patient of them were rushed, at least in the timeframe of them, linger¡­ they could not. Their lives too short, shortening.


    ¡°We need to go, but where? The stars shine bright¡­¡±


    So they looked up, captivated by far, this land they would never reach, they wouldn¡¯t. But their legacy? Maybe they soon would¡­


    ¡°One hundred years pass, an age of wander.¡±

 Interlude 9: A home found amidst the stars

    It had been a decade since they had found, a planet which could hold life close, alive! A grand discovery similar to¡­ this planet which they stood on, this earth ground. In secrecy a rocket was slow made, it¡¯s discovery could not happen now, too much was at stake, the state of many, the stakes were the fate of a race enslaved. She had worked on the project, little made, progress was slow, aggravatingly slow, yet there was nothing they could do to rush, it would be almost a centuries time. Yet hopes were high, their grandchildren would fly. Yet here on this earth, they were shackled taught.


    The elves held a firm grasp over their lives, society, innovation, but dreams. They wished to escape, revolt like back then. Their knowledge the last, at least that they knew. So they held it close, a treasure hidden.


    The world outside was lush, untouched by man, only small cottages of wood and stone, only they marked the landscape so proudly. Asides from the skeletons which still stood, a haunting reminder of the past world. One which would never come to fruition, at least on this planet, this barren world¡­ this barren world of green and hierarchy.


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    With a sigh she looked over at the frame, with a sigh she smiled at her long hopes. They¡¯ve been working at it on and off long, nights and days passed in and instant yet why¡­ why did there always seem to be more plans? Plans upon plans, scraps and remnants lost. Some things they could not make, they found those things. Some things they could not find, so they begged for, traded for, hoped for, until they inched close. She would sometimes look up at the sky bright, worried one of those flying drones would come, just too close, close enough to see, then¡­ gone. Her worries kept her up at night and day¡­ yet it¡¯d be worth it, her legacy lives.


    ¡°Oh to be immortal and so carefree, maybe tomorrow we¡¯ll find more lost scrap, to be immortal but so very ¡®lone, i¡¯d rather be me, at least I can hope¡­¡±

 Interlude 1: The arrow which pierced the resting sky

    The ground shook on a winters day cold born, the snow was falling yet in the distance, far enough that the snow could not yet graze, great noise emanates, something was changing. A face peeked out from a wooden cottage, a look of confusion, bewilderment. What was this thing which was piercing the sky, a trail of clouds and smoke in it¡¯s coned wake. The ground shook, the air warmed, something heavensward. Shot, faster than anything they had seen. shot, a bullet to pierce the silent day. Shot, the hopes of the future lain before. Shot, they could not fail now, too much at stake.


    Elsewhere, near where the rocket launched stood one, a hazy figure made of ashes, dreams, stood lingering, the hopes of many lost. Everyone succumbed to time one day, everyone which was human inside, yet, these hopes lingering so daintily, they did not diminish with time and age. The framework set by the past humans might, the skeleton created by the ones before, the engine scavenged from the scraps left old, and the knowledge, and hope which followed them. Those did not disappear, their hopes and dreams, they would come to fruition at this time. And so they flew¡­ Far into the bright sky,


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    And so they flew¡­


    And so they flew¡­


    And so they flew¡­


    Riding on a rocket of dreams¡­


    ¡°History rising from the ashes lost, A flame in our hearts, a phoenix pushes. What is hotter? Rocket flames, or bright hope? That hope which burns like a phoenix of dreams!¡±

 Epilogue 1: Slumber

    They saw the planet shrinking below them, this world which they had always known dearly, this place they called home left behind for good. They looked down at the world below them last. A bittersweet feeling rose in their chest, a feeling of great joy mixed with great loss, their future would be uncertain and lost, they would get to space, set their course, and sleep.


    Who knew if they would wake up? Who but I? One who sits in the future built by them, one who has the comfort of this time¡¯s lens. The lense of hindsight is a strange one yet¡­ I can feel their fears and aspirations, till this day not one is so ungrateful¡­ so ungrateful as to not thank them once, for paving this way, for carrying hope¡­


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    The rocket escaped the atmosphere hot, it¡¯s plating enough to withstand the heat. The rocket escaped, the people escaped. Space was uncertain, cold and so, so vast. Yet¡­ as everything stood, they were fine. They set their course, for the stars far away; and they slept.


    ¡°Goodnight¡­¡±


    and they dreamed¡­


    Of the world after.

 Side stories: The first attempt

    The discovery of a new planet, great joy went through the nation at long last. An expedition of 6 prepared fast, hoping to ask the king for his support. They wished to leave this planet, the earth bare. Bare of any opportunities left, that which bound humans no longer present, that hope which fueled man no longer left bare. The king rejoiced, he, and the nobles wished, the peasants also wished, to leave this world. For six days, and six nights, the people laughed. One night for each of the heroes which found. This planet would be called chronic, ¡°for long¡±. And so the people rejoiced. Hope was bright.


    On the seventh night, night of departure, the expedition talked to the lone king. Their goals, their hopes, they would be heroes long. Yet¡­ something went wrong then, the king went mad; his veins bulged, and his staff weighted heavily. A madness was present in his eyes, cold. A madness not seen the night before, cold. His body moved mechanically, stiff. His actions were cold, robotic even. The six died that night, news of the king spread. A party of six, bearing the names of, went towards the castle years later, vengeance. And so, with their heroics they slain him, tales of their ancestors preparing them. Yet¡­ at what cost? Only one remained live, and even he succumbed to his wounds soon. The king shattered, the heroes shattered too, cursed by their elven overlords to hell. And so the rocket was built in secret¡­


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    The king had been weakened by time and wear, yet, they had only barely succeeded still, who could have done this? It was apparent, but better left unsaid, they shall be praised. Their sacrifice paving the way for long.


    ¡°A tragedy borne through ambition bright, yet this ambition shines brightly, a flame, martyrs move us closer to our dreams.

 Chapter 1.1: First contact

    The sound of liftoff took place, rumbling. The sky began to part, clouds asunder. The shell heated up, then it quickly cooled. They had broken past the atmosphere thick, there was no turning back now, one entry. They only prepared for one reentry, either there, or back to where they once were. They only had a few minutes to think, yet it was no decision, conviction. It had all led up to this, then they froze.


    Stasis, it would be years before they reached, stasis, the trip of decades, now, minutes. In this way they held connections with them, their sense of time warped, yet at the same time¡­ they were still human, that was all they cared. They closed their eyes, the last sight of their world. Then they closed them, by the time they opened¡­ they had entered another world close by, they had jumped through time and space, a new world. Unexplored¡­ or was it? Soon, it was found.


    Upon entry onto this planet far, they found ¡°it¡±, what was it? A relic lost. Benign smoothed stones following another, not just smoothed stone, a road made by someone. Someone had been here before them long past, this world was not as uninhabited, this world was not a paradise easy. Perhaps they would have to fight, or soon join, perhaps they would need to run, or soon hide. With deep breaths, they each took up a weapon. A few guns, portable iron throwers. A few sabers, more suited for plant life. A few pipes, salvaged from the ship one use. Most important of all, supplies, food, substance. They could not fight on an empty stomach, and neither could they forage with safety. For the first few months they planned to eat these, they could research the local plants after. First of all they had to find shelter warm, their scans said the air was still breathable, the temperature slightly too chilly, the water contaminated slightly, but that could be fixed, but sickness unknown? They had not prepared for that yet, weakened. Their natural immunities long gone, the diseases they expected frightful. The future seemed uncertain, what to do?


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    ¡°Lets get situated first, then after¡­ then after that we can move on from there! The world seems uncertain but things are fine, we made it, our new home, lets not mess up¡­¡±

 Chapter 1.2: A lonely trek

    The air was calm on the cool winters night, our merry band of expedition alight, torches held high to the sky, all flame bright. Following towards where the path would soon lead, the path ever silent in loneliness, the glowing of the torches casting dark. They welcomed the unknown in it¡¯s wholeness, it¡¯s encompassing body like the night. Once they got their footing, the world would bright, but for now, mysteries were all abound. Did their history remain unfinished? Did someone dock here many eons past? Did their mysteries remain far founded, like the ocean to horizons long past?


    A figure saw them for a second by, a familiar figure met before, but the figure of man much like oneself, and again it flickered like the shadows. Giving fast chase, a yell of haste, surprise, yet no response came, the darkness remained, and again our group walked in the black dark, only confusion and uncertainty.


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    Their hearts remained confused as they walked by, something had seen them this fateful dark night. Their hearts remained confounded as they saw, the answers they found nothing but a blight. Something was here, they were not alone, but¡­ who was watching? Did they know? Ally ? Foe?


    And so they continued, a trek in dark, and so they continued, fear in their heart. The cool breeze helped calm their nerves, so they walked. To find shelter, to ease their trembling heart. The air ran cold and over them it did, and more alone than ever in abyss.


    ¡°Oh how lonely is it in company, the company of friends uncertain, scared. Oh how lonely, in this world, unprepared.¡±

 Chapter 1.3: Reflections

    Is this world so prone to feeling like lost? This world that we leave behind with each step. The footprints in the snow, they fade and blow. Yet ever shining is a memory, are faces and voices we use to know. They leave with time and so we are more blind. Without them we are different, yet, same. Our memories glow, our present in name. We live taking small steps forwards all the same. This part of me, that grows and bleeds, it cries. For this past of yours, for this past of mine.


    We made so many memories that we... looking back at them have but one or two. We threw them away, to make many new. Yet ash to ash, dust to dust, we cannot... This past we sealed, never to now return. This celebration of past times we learn, may very much be the very most last. In this form, for all fades to memories. Is this the end, no, I still, still... believe. We will see eachother again in life.


    Strangers at crossroads, enemies in strife. The past we keep moving further from, stays. You will live, I will live, with the come day.


    One step forwards, we cannot step one back. We keep going, looking back at our tracks. The effect you have, will forever shine. As ruins of the past, of simple times. Where do we go from here, our paths diverge. Where do we go from here, the rumbling earth.


    New adventures! Oh how they do so glow.


    New stories! Although tears may still... still flow


    We grow, and change, our hearts and brains, stay same. There is no sadness, there is no lost shame. No pain, only longing, for paths blocked. The flock gathers, the flock will seperate. We find each other on this path and late. Lately I think that''s fine, it all does shine. We may miss the times we once never had. but we will find new memories, good... bad. So don''t cry, there is no sadness or tears. Only a new beginning, have no fear.


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    We may never be able to go back, our hearts heavy with no easy front path. We may never ever go back, but smile. For the future never lacks a "goodmorning".


    A time where the world will shine, a new dawn, brightness even during darkest of times. A place beyond where we have ever been. We''re travelers of fate, yet not forget. The past turned us into who we now are, so let. A picture book last for the rest of time, memories bright, hopes that long will now shine.


    We will not forget, those memories now. We will hold onto them at our cold boughs. To explore a fridgid ocean landscape, to explore the uncharted futures wake. Where will we be in but one single year? We knew where we were, so now do we hear. The laughing, the crying, the memories. As well as crisp walking to future see. We will smile for all that we have lost, never stop smiling even in frost. The future may be frigid, may be cold. But it can also be endlessly warm, only time will unfold this aching pain.


    So smile, although it is so so hard. So cry, let it all out forever bared. Our scars, and victories, they make us now. We will never be able to cry out. That we weren''t here, that we could not see. Because the truth verily is that... We were here, we existed, we laughed.


    Thankyou for being here, thankyou for that. This alone is enough for loud applause. A procession of clapping, and some tears. Tears because we loved what we used to hear. Smile, and cry, sadness is not so bad. Just get up again, for this future glad!


    The past is behind us, so very so. But where we walk towards, it will bright glow! Smile, laugh, celebrate the coming day. It does not diminish the long lost past. Instead it embroiders it with a chime, the chiming of laughter, for all of time! Let none forget us and our slow set rhyme.


    "We were here, we were there, we do still care. For this present we will leave long behind, we will smile and laugh for all time! Thankou for being the light which did shine!" I say, as I see traces of you aligned. Aligned in this procession, possession. You will continue to be part of me. You still are part of the community.


    This light we will see, when we close our eyes. "Goodmorning, and goodnight, for the last time"


    Flowers of happiness and soft spring rain, the start of something new always has pain... hope you''ll be okay wherever you are, you have many many friends here and far. I will see you in this life and the next, this is not goodbye, just see you later!

 Chapter 1.4: A feeling of something lost, something that was never there.

    The weight of my clothing is shockening, a warm and inviting feeling I know. Safety, warmth, the first section is a haze¡­ I¡¯m running from something, I hit my head. I was doing something, a goal far clear. I wake up, a ceiling I know too well. A family home, the home of my youth.


    I look around, familiar figures. Figures I haven¡¯t seen in a long time. Faces of people younger than they should, faces of people in roles they shouldn¡¯t. A headache, a pulsing pain rings on out. Memories flood in from another life. The path here different, my ¡®selves¡¯ soon merge. Did I wake up from a dream, a hazed life? From a dream only to realize my self?


    Was my waking just now a rippling breath? My head clear, clearer than it had been long. These memories hungover from a phantom. The me here, ¡®me¡¯, has such thoughts of wrongness. Even he feels like he does not belong. My siblings, or my cousins? Have I wronged? I was unsure of it in that moment. A sense of guilt yet at the same time hope.


    If I was waking from a dream, I change. If this is a dream, I will say sorry. Apologize for this other self mine. If this is real or not, matters little. What worries me is how, and for whose sake. The memories omit this question found.


    I go to the bathroom, a shower set. I needed to get my mind off of things. Give it time to rest, I had ¡®woken¡¯ up. Somethings wrong with the floor, likely water. I call someone over to help, mother. The one I had known, something that won¡¯t change.


    I take this opportunity to hear¡­


    ¡°He¡¯s acting different, he¡¯s acting strange¡±


    ¡°Somethings off about him, he gave a look¡­ like he was seeing something not real¡¯ there¡±


    My room was on the other side straight through. The bathroom was offlimits, nowhere else. I waited a bit, the door shut on closed. My anxiety and fears bubbling.


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    I knock on the door, ¡°can I come on in?¡±. I say, before hearing the room grow still. I push myself in there, ¡°sorry¡± I say. I begin to apologize for ¡®me¡¯, the haze I¡¯ve been in for all of these years. My anxiety bursting at the seams.


    Wait a second¡­ was that truely ¡®me¡¯ or¡­ The thought comes to a sudden piercing pain. The room freezes, goes to a shade of grey. The room is black and white with stilled faces.


    >Accept the signs?


    >¡±Something is wrong¡±


    The first.


    I pick the first option and a thought forms. A strong pulsing pain threatening to break. The room around me changes to a dream¡­ A reality? This had happened before, another life. I had awoken from my stupor so¡­ So I just kept going on, what is wrong?


    This feeling that something was still off still stays, as if I had never woken on up. As if I was still in a long set dream. Familiar, yet but aberration. I look down, remember that feeling lost. I wake up, my heart pounding, and screaming.


    I lie awake in my bed, just¡­ breathing. What was that? A dream? But it felt so real?


    I lie awake in my bed, haunted. Guilt from another life solved as I could. Guilt from a dream, a feeling of lost thought. Of lost direction, as if without end¡­ Lingers.


    I lie awake in my bed, so awake.


    I lie awake in my bed, still asleep.


    I cannot escape from reality. I cannot wake up from this dream, this time. What I do now will affect the story. Will it have a end this time? Or linger? A regret i¡¯ll never see the end of. A ¡°dream¡± I¡¯ll never see the ending for.


    I lie awake with my actions and mind. Every action not done, path unexplored. Less weight on my chest as I take it off. The blanket which I held close, I regret¡­


    Every risk I did not take, path traveled.


    Every friend I did not make, those I did.


    Could my life have been different than now.


    Seeing the two I could have had and lost.


    Like ripples in the water they fade, lost.


    Another path I¡¯ve traveled long gone.


    Closed off to me as if i¡¯ve lost something.


    Can you lose what you¡¯ve never even had?


    I lie awake, I lie awake, I sleep.


    It drags me under once again, lucid.

 Chapter 1.5: Winters cold

    I wake up from my sleep, blankets fall down. I pull them up yet coldness surrounds me, I seek comfort yet none can be found here. The air around me is cold yes, but still, I think the world outside of my room¡¯s colder. The frozen faces, the unknown places, when I walk outside no one bats an eye, this world we live in is far colder than. In some places I find abit of warmpth, friends sitting by the fire sharing laughs. In other places all I find is scorn, antagonism and hatred adorn. Why is this world so cold, yet still so warm. Why is my world every changing, frost, thorns. From cold to hot, and then to cold again. This world is uncertain, yet around bends, there¡¯s fun to be had, in the good and bad. Making joy of the worst times makes me glad. With friends around we can have snowball fights, even when the world is turned against us, our warm fire is still glowing so bright. Friends make the day just abit brighter too, in times warm like summer, to the cold dew. In rain or shine, frost which blinds, we are bind, by eachothers warm glow, cold like meadows¡­ Not so cold after all, we shine alight.


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    We¡¯ll be¡­ alright¡­

 Chapter 1.6: Replanting for the future

    Why is past love so painful looking back? Is there a regret hidden deep inside? How do you love after, does your heart hide? Are these pains of the past, scars that still last, do they keep you chained and stuck far back there? Or have you broken past these feelings deep, walked up this slope very steep, breaking free? What is love, pain, heart, and so much beauty?


    Can you take the risk, the risk that this fails? The risk that all this energy is ail? Can you risk heart, love openly to start? It¡¯s that time again, when the flowers bloom. Hearts withered like fields, with only weeds, gloom. Can you replant again? Tow these bare fields. The heart is tough, with very little yield, but one day it can spring to life again.


    Love never comes without risk, vulnerable. The heart is weak as this, we may stumble. Take it a step at a time, it will shine; even if nothing was here in the past. Can you love again at last, can you laugh?


    It takes abit of time to get started, these barren fields won¡¯t go and tow themselves. It takes abit of time and rest to heal, that pain in your heart is valid and real. You¡¯ll get past this I believe, laugh, smile, grieve. Water the fields with the tears you¡¯ve hidden, sow them again on this path you¡¯ve ridden. After a winter there is no plant life, but again we must move on while rife.


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    Learn from the mistakes of the past season, tow the fields with some reason, not treason¡­ to move on, you are strong, you¡¯ll be happy¡­ again. Believe that, know that, Past is gone.


    Do they make you happy? The one you¡¯re with. Do they make you smile? Just to exist. Can you love again? I really believe. For my heart itself is bright, I don¡¯t grieve. It¡¯s healed enough that I can move beyond, It¡¯s moved enough that I can walk strong on. You¡¯ll love again one day too, hoe straight through. This ground so barren and lacking of life, will one day spring with the brightest fruit ripe. Live your life, not in sorrow, live for ¡®morrow.


    A brighter day waits for us far away, do not let the past force you to here stay. I walk towards the sun ever so sun bright. I smile again, the future in light. No matter what¡¯s ahead, we¡¯ll be alright.

 Chapter 1.7: Us flawed humans

    We all make mistakes in this life of ours, I¡¯ve made way too many to count alone. We¡¯ve planted the wrong seeds, wondered what was, but the sun comes up again like clockwork. Learning from our mistakes, they were lessons. Things to regret for sure, but also time, memories we¡¯ll never get back again. Time frozen behind us never erased.


    We¡¯ll never be able to do redo them, we might also one day forget as well, yet¡­ as long as we grow, change for better, the same tears won¡¯t flow more than once or twice, gracing this world with a memory new.


    Even if I forget, even in loss, every moment that¡¯s made me continues. These hands of mine, shaking in the cold air. These hands of mine, they trace the mistakes made, trying to diverge from the past escaped. These hands of yours, they¡¯ll learn. and grow. and change. Can¡¯t you play a song prettier than last? Last year? Last decade? These songs now play bright. These hands now carry weight, the mistakes made. The mistakes we again try to avoid.


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    Trace your fingers in the air, these times lost, along with the future ever so shifts, in summer heat or winters coldest frost. We are as insignificant as flies, mayflies struggling to live but one short day. Yet, not all that we do will fade to dust. The memories we¡¯ve made, memories shared, they still exist within our mind as light.


    Your laugh, your voice, this feeling unexpressed, it makes my step abit lighter, brighter. I¡¯m glad that you¡¯re here, there is no hate, tears. There is mere, a feeling of happiness, one innocent and unhardened to pain. Lets learn from our past but never lose heart, never shroud ourself off from the ver¡¯ start. That is no way to live, pain, and, forgive.


    I may sometimes cry out in misery, sometimes instead a confusion and a doubt, but never do I cry out to hurt one, hurting others is a mistake I¡¯ve learned. Not done on my own shaky hands but ours. Humans will hurt, humans will cry, humans, they make many mistakes, meeting you though¡­ Was not one of them.


    Thankyou for being.


    You.


    Flawed as we are.

 Chapter 1.8: Unfounded fears at the end of the day

    This burning, this heart, this yearnings behest, why is love so needy, why is time short. This feeling of want, this feeling of unend, can I satisfy it my closest friend? I look to the horizon, the close times, I look to the future, riddled in rhyme. Will my heart be satisfied, do I want? Will my heart rest or forever cry out? Is it fair for me to ask you so much, or is it unfair for me to ask more? What can I ask, and what do I so hide, this feeling of loneliness stays inside. Am I more than an afterthought to you? Am I more than an inconvenience too? Can I trust you with this heart so young still? I want to, I do, but can I trust you?


    Thus the questions of a fragile heart, thus the questions of a scared and lost heart. Can I shield it away, can I still stay? Am I too needy, am I too greedy, or am I not, needy, greedy, enough? What is good, and what will last till the end? This innocence in my heart, never rend. This wanting for someones time, want of mine... to be something more, than inconvenience...


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    Can I ask you, can I trust that it won''t, that it won''t push you further away than... than we already are, can I trust you? Can I trust you with a fragile heart, Can I trust you, with this love fragile. My heart it beats, it worries so, longing... longing, for a place without fear and tears.


    Can I trust you, with my time ever short, to not be an afterthought in the night. Can I trust you, I don''t ask for too much, can I trust you, to be honest with me. Do you still love me, my worries unfound. Do you still love me, and want me around. Am I a afterthought fading away. Can I... afford to stay... or do I... fade

 Chapter 1.9: Unfounded fears, not unfounded

    Sometimes things just don''t work out like you hoped, sometimes the world hits you so you mope, sometimes those fears you''ve been pushing far down... they were right, they were sound, so it resounds.


    But let that not keep you down and in pain, maybe for a bit, but it''s not your bane. pull your cursed body back up, never fall. Sometimes things just happen, no fault at all.


    Sometimes people just split up, it is fine. Learn from it, churn from it, find your lost mind. Focus again, to the future, rewind; focus on the past, do better next time. We''re human and we can do not but learn. We are human and what we lack, we yearn.


    It hurts for sure, my heart grasps for a voice, it hurts for sure, but we''ll learn from our choice.


    Thankyou for the happy memories hon, these fields in my heart will be baren long. It will take some time, but I''ll move along, this pain, this happiness, accents my song.


    Do I have regrets? Surely I still do. Could I have done better, surely that too. But it''s no reason to throw away time, crystalized memories of you and mine.


    I won''t forget but I won''t still linger, I need to move on one day... here I lay. Today is not that day, today... I rest. I cry, I laugh, I''ll do my very best. Between curtains of tears, moments of rest.


    Beautiful as the memories closed off, beautiful as your voice gentle and soft, beautiful as these days spent together, we will move on, not in pain, but in song.


    Stolen story; please report.I''ve learned about myself, surely you too, time moves on, a unrelenting soft tune. Questions unanswered, questions not once seen, answers deleted, what did we once mean? I''m sure years from now, when we''ve lost our notes, when but faded memory, it''ll float, Visions of a past time, looked in gold light. No regrets, only "it''s alright", thankyou.


    Thankyou for spending your time with me once, thankyou for caring for me once as well, thanks for the memories. For being you. Sorry we couldn''t do what we once dreamed, for not making you happy as seemed.


    I didn''t mean for it to end so soon, but that will be a lingering regret. Something to learn from, you, I won''t forget. I wish we made more memories, but still... I enjoyed your company, on I mill. Seeking a future where my heart is filled.


    This warmth you''ve given me, these smiles too, This time you''ve given me, makes the sky blue. It makes the world slightly brighter at last. You are a cherished part of my found past... If we ever cross again, our lone paths. Let it not be in apology or wrath. Instead in remembrance, in a thanks. Instead in self growth and laughter unbound.


    If we meet again, please smile for me, smile and laugh, tell me of your own glee. Let this not be a scar on my own heart, instead a small bruise in which I will heal. the pain, the happiness, it all is real. The happiness you gave me is surreal.


    Thanks for the memories, is this goodbye? Thanks for the laughs, in my heart you''ll reside.


    Thankyou. Maybe we''ll talk again one day... If we meet again, what will we then say?

 Chapter 2.0: A new chapter

    Everything seems unappetizing, my heart feels heavy and barren yet free. No bonds to keep me grounded, no one close; A void fills my heart, what I''m yearning most. In one way I''m thankful, thankful for truth. In another way I''m regretful too. My schedule is shattered, does it matter. Does it matter much what I do alone? No one to wake to, no one I must greet. No one at my side, yet unbound my feet. It''s the beginning of a new story, it''s still hard to believe the last one ends. It just ended like that, in a sole call. It must have ended like that, my soul soon falls.


    It''s an empty feeling, a shaky feel. It''s a uncertainty rising, this, real? Like waking up from a slumber to lights, confusion, emptiness, and a small fright. Where am I to go to feel again whole, to have someone to love, to pay the toll. It''s an empty feeling, with some meaning, it''s an empty feeling, knowing you care. It''s an empty feeling, without you there.


    But again I rise to my shaky feet, like many times I have once done before, in pondering breaths, I look to the floor. These footprints I''ve left behind, they will fade. There are more experiences to be made. Where will these feet take me this time, to go. Where will my future take me, here I hold, the compass which will set my fate untold.


    It''s a new beginning, it''s not all grand. I look down again at my shaky hands. These motions I''ve made time and time again, finding love only to lose it then. Motions I''ve made, starting over from not. Motions I''ve made, progressing not a drop. It sometimes feels hopeless, when will it end? This cycle of loving, and mourning then?


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    But again I rise, slower than the last, this weariness in my bones, shackled past. They don''t wanna move, from this place so warm. But time is relentless, so it is warned.


    Time will wait for no one, but I''ll wait some. Time will wait for no one, but I''ll wait one.


    Give myself some time to heal, time to breath. Time to reconsider, what I do need.


    But I have risen, the world is not kind. But I have risen, again and again. To seek love, to light fire, to smile, I rise again, I rise again, I rise.


    The pain of finality hurts far more, the pain of finality reminds so, "you cannot step back, the past is far lost, you cannot step back, it''s far too late now..." Can I do it again, do it like so? Can I love, be vulnerable, and go?


    So I walk again, so I rise again, a small limp and pain to my addled steps. So I walk again, so I rise again. So that I can heal, so that I can breath, and so that I can find, someplace for me...


    But when will that be... but when will that be... when will I find someone else to love me...? A caged bird, set free, but vulnerable. The pain of love hurts far less... but I walk... but I walk... but I walk... aimless, heartless.


    Do I shield off my heart? Or give my all? Can I trust again? I think that I can. This pain is worth it, this pain always was. To pain is to love, without it I''m cold, to love is to pain, time and time again.


    So I rise, I walk, I fall... rise again. Heavy steps, determined steps, shaky steps. So I rise, so I rise, so I''ve fallen. This cycle never ending, a lost heart. This heart of mine unrelenting again. Because I know I''ll find it, given time. Because I know I''ll find it, love of mine.

 Chapter 2.1: The pain of longing

    The pain of longing it comes and it goes, like waves on the seabed, it ebbs and flows. This pain which happens in my heavy, chest. It can only be cured with passing time, this pain which happens in my heavy chest, a relic of this love which I called mine. What is love and what is not, who can know? What is love, and what is the idea of, that I can''t say for sure. That I can''t say. This pain of longing, it ebbs and it flows, I''ll love another one day, but it goes, that no one love will ever be like else, that no one love will ever be yourself.


    The way you talk, the way you smile still, the way you laugh, it gives me such a thrill. I enjoy and long for those short moments, the ones you likely already forgot. This pain of longing does not hurt so much, instead it''s like a dull pain, the ver same, the very same I felt waiting for you. And so I held it to my chest, this pain, this pain which reminded me of the you, and with it I know that I can heal too.


    The pain is not forever, it will go. The pain is not meaningless, tears do flow. The pain will continue, but it will fade. I will heal, but that will not erase the... the memories we made. They will not fade.


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    Healing and time will dull this longing pain, and the longing will be less and less too, but that does not mean I will forget, you. Instead as I heal, I''ll come to go let, instead as I heal, I will not forget. I fear losing this part of me given you, forgetting this feeling as to lands new. Not forever but I cherish it so, I cherish these memories we''ve made but... you, the thought of me and you, that must go. In the past but to the sea I must throw, my longing, my want, so that I can glow.


    Into the sea goes a bottle of mine, a bottle containing the words not said, a bottle containing the promises, the words which we let. Spill like water and thought, into the past''s time, spill out like water, this love of old times. And so we come to accept this fate sad, the happy memories, the very bad.


    And so I come to accept where I stand, at the start of a new adventure''s land.


    And so I throw a bottle to the sea, and hold close all of our hap'' memories.


    Can you see me from the other far shore, have you come to terms with it too... and more?


    What questions from you will I never hear, with all of my regrets and silent fears, I will never hate you as I stand here.


    And so I throw a bottle to the sea, with a message:


    "thanks for the memories."

 Chapter 2.2: The other shore

    And so my letter received far away, a letter back urging me not to stay, our paths had split and my heart was now free, the letter answering my long held fears. It was really the end, continue on, replow our fields, and prepare for the fall, the cycle continues again and all. We''re back where we started, a untamed land. We''re back as wanderers, by our own hands. We''ve let go of the shackles of old love, we continue to find our final home. We''re adventurers, we''re nomads you see, we''re vagrants, migrants, on this path to see, what is love, what is this feeling to me? Not all of us know the answer, not I, some of us know but still choose to far fly. Not everyone needs love, but do I? A home, a place, where we see eye to eye? That would be nice so I venture ''gain, that would be nice, so we head off like then.


    We''re on the road again, leaving footprints, we''re on the road again leaving a past, we''re on the road again with pictures, last. The sides of the roads decrepit figures, giving up their own path to sit alone, on the other warm houses lived in lone. We''re on the road again, not found a love, we''re on the path with no destinations.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Some happy on their lonesome, some not so, some ''venturers looking, others gave up. "I''m not worth loving" but have they looked down? Sometimes all it takes is their feet on ground.


    Some can''t find love, some give up far too soon, some never tried, never wanted to move. Others tried, but were knocked down and down ''gain. I the fool, have decided to follow.


    And so we''re on the road again for long, and so we sing our lonely lonely song, and so we''re on the road again, to then, one day find our place in this cold hard world.


    It''s not time to give up, not time to cry, with a single sigh, I continue forth. I look to the sea and find someone far, I cannot go where they will be and are. I go look at my fields unplowed and dry, another time, another long sad sigh. We pull our boots straps up, we continue. We get ready and so we continue.


    This path of love is not easy to some, it was not ever easy to me atleast, this path of love is ruthless and endless, but we''ll find a place for it to once end.


    And so my letter was sent back, far away, so on this shore I couldn''t longer stay. To set my feet to go far far away. A lingering glance, A tearful, quick, run.


    And so we continue,


    We continue,


    "goodbye"

 Chapter 2.3: An empty haze

    I wake up from my dream like an empty haze, the voices in them I''ve once heard them made, these voices linger in the cold air, on my back cold sweat lingers rolling there. I headache, an illusion, times past now. My headache, it feels heavy, a blanket. I wake up, those words linger, louder now. I wake up, and sit up, it refuses. My body moves slow like molasses sap, trickles down as the clock moves on and on, my body sluggish, I go, check the time, my eyes opening but the world blurry.


    It''s distorted, this room around me now, it''s warping, with memories, then and now. Half a eye open, half a eye closed shut, my arms up in the air to check my phone, like subtitles, the words, they refuse rest, my head beating like drums, thoughts with no rest. Who is this name they speak of, what''s this voice? Who is speaking to me, and when did they? These voices they''re familiar, heard before. I''m sure it was during my younger years. A pleasant voice, one I can''t really place, I look at my phone and then


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I wake up.


    I''m laying on my bed now, phone by side, I''m laying on my bed now, questions linger. The headache has ended, the pulsing stopped. The blanket laying on by body long, only questions of... what have I forgot? The voices, fading like a fog now gone, snapped by the wakefulness of the bright day, only a sense of lost time to pave way.


    I wake up, this is life, regrets be damned. Lets pave way for a future that''s lasting.

 Chapter 2.4: Longing, waiting, healing

    It''s been a week and I still miss you so, the pain has dulled as quickly as it came, I still love you just like the very same, the pointer in my heart still has your name. I understand that the love has ended, and yet my mind still lingers on why this... this state of affairs that we are now in, the reason why our talks are so sparse, thin. It''s been a while, yet not very long, healing takes longer, but I''m going strong. I''m trying to be patient, yet nothing... fails to remind me of your voice that sings.


    It''s a longing, yet not a stinging pain, it''s a wanting that feels so empty too, it''s a passing, our ever moving time, and it''s a lasting, searching in my heart. I think I''m moving, but not moving on, a shark circling the waters to not sink, I''m spending my time to go on and think.


    This heart of mine ever so fragile, this heart of mine ever so flawed and weak, this heart of mine which heals too fast, it last... I want this time to linger, the pain fades, with it I ponder the feelings I made.


    I''m selfish, I''m flawed, I want to be loved, maybe it''s because of that... that I can''t, can''t force myself to move on. selfish love, that''s all I''m capable of, selfish love, maybe people should stay on away.


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    I want to love genuinely but still, my emotions cool, yet longing it stays. A flawed human being, I am that way... I feel like this pain should last longer still, that I shouldn''t accept the way it is, that I should scream that I truly did love, but my heart it knows, that that... would hurt you.


    To not hurt you with my lingering thorns, to not hurt you with these thoughts that adorn, a shaky heart without a staying muse, an empty longing, a fear I can''t lose.


    To not hurt you with the me of today, I must let the pain go, yet longing stays. I should mask the feelings deep in my heart, pretend it was never there from the start. Yet it hurts, I can''t just lie to myself, I did love knowing how much it would hurt, yet it hurts, I knew it from the ver'' start, and yet it hurts, proof of my beating heart.


    ... and yet it hurts, proving that I can love. And yet it hurts, proof that I still love you.


    ... and yet it fades, I''ve accepted this fate, accepted this choice that you once did make.


    To protect myself, and to protect you, I need to let go, of these times so bright. My heart... it''ll be alright, out of sight.


    This is called healing, is called moving on, is called protecting myself, staying strong. This is called continuing, knowing on, that you''ll keep your bright smile all along.


    Have faith in me, that I''ll smile brightly... Have faith in myself... that I''ll forgive myself...

 Chapter 2.5: Time to breathe

    It''s the time after the storm, static stings, the air trembling with the charged and sharp shock, yet now it''s falling and there is just mist. A calm time after, a welcome abyss. Here is where I dance the best, learning still. Learning about myself and learning still, reflecting on the past, such a calm thrill.


    This world we live in, it''s so chaotic, in times like this I can just... breathe, it''s nice. It''s really so nice just getting a break. The air feels so fresh with adventures bright, endless futures, untraveled paths in sight, from the well treaded path in a bright light, to the unknown underbrush, dangers flight! Where we go from now, who we will become, who we are now, and what songs will be sung. Here we can decide, and from this still spot, the air is open and the sky is clear!


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    There are birds soaring from over the trees, Under the dark trees, endless mysteries, and the path to the fourth! Excitement boards!


    This sense of a new adventure not shared, this sense of anticipation in air, this feeling that the world starts inside me, this feeling that this world''s unshackled, free!


    Can not but compare, this feeling to void, while it is empty, there is not much noise.


    The worries have died down, it starts with me, while I am alone, I am true free!


    If I believe in myself, I''ll true see, endless love, happiness, and some beauty! This world is endless, and flowers shine bright, what fear is there but "I''ll be alright!"


    We''ll be okay at the end of the day, this future uncertain, belongs to us!


    Even if the forest does burn on down, even if it is only ashes ''round, the forest will return one fateful day, we too, will rebuild, on memories way. We will be okay... you will be okay... I will be okay... my promise to you.

 Chapter 3.0: Boringly stormy

    It''s the time after the storm so er'' hard, and I can''t say the peace is all too bad... But still, there''s something missing, something short. But still, there''s something missing, my worn heart. I''m living a life half awake, conscious. I''m living a life where I''m not right there. It''s like I''m underwater, under sap, everything is moving so slow and still. This life that I''m living feels dry yet calm, I can''t really complain, only just yawn.


    This life has gotten dry, without a spark, this life is flameless where it was alight. And yet I can''t complain, yet going on. And yet I can''t complain, you weren''t wrong. Every one of my fears that I''ve moved on, In the dead of night, in sleeps slow swan song, I realized I haven''t moved on at all, these fears I''ve left behind, to which I''m thrawled.


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    I need to move on, and waking I have. I need to move on but my heart is bad. It''s unable to forget foolish fears, It''s unable to look forwards from here. This place fixed in space, this place fixed in time, this place fixed in fears, move on heart of mine. This place of longing, this boring slow song, this life I lived, and the thought that I''m wrong... It''s hard to move on from, but I need to. So my waking self it has, my heart not.


    But these memories with you I will not.


    This boring life so bland and without spice, it lets me heal from the terrors at night.


    I''m moving on, not forgetting, I must.

 Chapter 3.1: Another dream, nightmare?

    I had a dream last night, as long as sleep, unending in all of it''s fears and cries, men driven by their desires, love, lust, people driven to survive moments more. Death by every corner, death in few steps, a cascade of failures, fear death grief loss, and a cascade of adrenalines blade.


    It was the end of the world, a fast time, when you''d be barely able to think long, where would you go, where would you lie, bonds die.


    In a situation where all is lost, in a situation where fears abound, hold what you care for close, like fading stars. The resolutions you''ve set on to do, can you complete them if time is fleeting, can you complete them if you would die, can you complete them regardless of cost, regardless of fears, regardless of fright?


    When all is lost and uncertain will you? Do what you want, do what you can, do that, that which is required to live, to thrive... that which is required to continue? Or will you break down, wait for their return, wait for the right moment, never to see?


    When monsters could be outside by torch light, can you bring up the courage to run, scream? Or will you be paralyzed, tied right down, noose at your neck, hesitation''s chains, unable to hold a single thing close.


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    When all goes to naught, and the path is dimmed, can you walk towards that future you long for... or will you wait, or will you lie, for death... and a chance that will never come to light.


    The past has faded, societies gone. Can you find the strength to go on? I can''t... or I may, depends on the kind of day. I can''t, or I may, resolute at times, but to my fears I often do still sway.


    When your desires become fearful gods, able to turn you to monsters or men, when your desires become at the odds, can you continue, can you find resolve.


    All of us turn to monsters when driven, able to do what we could not before, but will you hurt them in that same process, that''s where the line is drawn, a line oft crossed.


    If there are monsters and there are said men, slugs frozen, fraid, unable to fight, run, hide, continue. Slugs just waiting for death, unable to.


    The buildings are shattered, ruined, long gone, our friends are bent into inhuman shapes, we don''t know who is safe, and what''s to come, can you afford to run, those fears you hold.


    Into the dark, into the night, into... That place you''re afraid of, where you might die?


    Into the dark, into the long night, into that place where you don''t know up, down.


    Someone has wandered out into the street, their back getting smaller further they go, will you chase them, knowing what you don''t know?


    Someone has wandered, into monsters den, will you chase them, and protect them at odds?


    Or will you poor snail,


    Once again die, fail.


    Not a human, monster, a slug that''s impailed.

 Chapter 4.0: Again on the path of love

    Again I am on the path of lost love, trying to find it in every step took, and I cannot say it is free of wear, but my heart it knows that it is out there. Perhaps I am hasty, going too fast; Loving too wholeheartedly, just like that. Perhaps I have grown too attached and bore, sadness I have felt time and time before?


    That I cannot say, and so I press on. Headstrong, going into the far beyond. I know not what''s before me, nor behind. Traumas of the past, sadness yet to find. And if I said I was not scared, I''d lie. And If I said I was not excited. I''d. Lie. So I won''t, I''m in a strange haze, my mind cluttered, twisting like it''s own maze.


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    My past insecurities, traumas, songs. My future hopes, ambitions, going strong.


    And so I go down this road, I''ve walked old. And so I go down this road, pain once told. And so I walk down this road, fear in heart. So I walk down this road, my heart I hold.


    Cautiously at times, bravely at others, If I told you I''m unafraid, I''d lie. But I won''t back down, for one day it flies.


    My heart, it hopes, worries, wanes and yet grows. My heart, it seeks a time when laughter flows.


    If I told you I''m unafraid I''d lie... But that''s not enough to make my hope die.

 Chapter 4.1: The path of love is riddled with walls

    If the path was open, and and e''er free; In heart and in mind, both in sanctity, oh how easy would that be, ever free? Oh how easy would that be, unshackled.


    The path that binds me to my beating heart, beating confusedly from the ver'' start. How far does it plan to take me, how far? The walls traced and built from my very scars.


    Obstruction and obstruction block my view. Preventing me from seeing my own self. Contorting my own sense of right or wrong. Telling me that I''ve been unjustly wronged.


    Yet again and again I plead ''not true!'', my insecurities ringing me blue.


    This path obscured and confusingly dark, no end in sight, security in heart. This path ever so confusing to me, the more I learn, the less I really see.


    My heart has posted signs, where not to go. And now every step brings up a red flag. But the biggest flag of all, myself.


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    I don''t see at times how anyone else... can love me? as flawed I currently am.


    I am so desperately scared that I am.


    ''unlovable''


    is that all I will be? When they look at me what will they real'' see?


    A joke? A fool? A jester in a dress?


    A bore? A chore? Dry as the very dead?


    When I see the mirror, see someone else. When I see the mirror, can''t see myself.


    My insecurities, they bubble up. Without warning, without provocation, they stab at my very beating heart. Following along from the very start.


    The more I learn, the less I really see. Blocking myself up, insecurities. From a wall made to protect my weak heart, to a wall trapping my very blind eyes, to a whisper to myself, all... some... lies.


    I dream of a happy time by the light, when we can laugh, sing, smile. None in sight.


    A lantern sent to the sky with prayer, a lantern sent over these self made walls. A lantern set alight by my soft hopes. Hopes I''ll hold onto, regardless of all.


    All the past worries, all the salty tears, all the time worn fears. I want to hear once... that ''I am still here...''


    My past holds me back, will it still be so... If I push on through the walls, where I go...


    ''who knows?''


    Maybe to the meadow of love.

 Chapter 4.2: On the other side of the wall

    I wake up from this dream and look around


    The past tinted in a different light


    The light of suspicion on each message


    And I''m led to believe it''s all a lie


    I''m unsure what''s true anymore right here


    I''m standing on the baren other side


    No flowers in bloom, and no answers too


    Just peering in, wondering, what went wrong.


    I''m unsure what was real and what was a lie


    But am I allowed to really complain?


    We are but friends, in name, is it the same?


    What right do I have, What will I ever


    What right do I have to complain to you?


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.None at all I''m afraid, I don''t blame you.


    I''ll just wait here I guess, but time runs short.


    I''ll just wait here I guess, for hopes and dreams.


    I''ll just wait here I guess, for it to break.


    I''ll wait here, for answers which won''t appear.


    We''re on the path of hopes and dreams, trying


    But not every flower will bloom, crying


    But some are just slightly later, hoping


    But some will wilt before then, despairing


    But we''ll walk this path anyways riddled


    and if we must split one day, so be it


    That''s how it''s always been, how it will be


    But isn''t that lonely? Living like that?


    Atleast then, the voices will stop speaking


    But then, I can''t hear your laughter again...


    I wake up from this dream, falling asleep


    And look around to a foreign dark place


    Filled with my every insecurity


    I can''t recognize it, a shadow past


    I can recognize it too well, scares me.

 Chapter 4.3: Will these walls define me?

    Sometimes in life I''m consumed by my fear, and sometimes I feel as if I''m defined. Defined by my past, defined by my tears, defined by this pain which threatens to tear. But I need to keep going, head held high, because I know there''s a chance, don''t ask why. One day I''ll find my happiness and light, and while I''m stuck in this maze of woe, I''ll race, I''ll run, and I''ll fight, never drop! Because I know that it''s possible, because I know that it could be right here. My hopes, my dreams, my fears, I won''t back down.


    This maze which blinds me, Obstructs my short view, this maze which winds and winds, destination. Where does it lead, I think that no one knows. But I hope in my heart, a bright meadow. I can feel the wind, I can see the stars, following me in my trek towards yore, I can smell the salt, I can hear the waves, I know in my heart that I can be saved. Perhaps I''m just innocent, na?ve, perhaps I''m a fool, I choose to believe.


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    No matter how many times I mess up, how many times things just don''t go my way, I hope you my current love, stay that way.


    I''m a fool but I can''t run forever, but to give up here, now? I would never.


    Till I find the end of this maze so long, till I find the answer to this slow song, I will not rest till I find the true end. Ruins, or flowers, smiles or glowers. I want to know, for that moment I go.


    I''m horribly afraid of messing up, and I cannot say if I''ll be smiling. But I''ll try, because there is a real chance.


    But I''ll try, because love makes me a fool.

 Chapter 4.4: This vexing map of mine

    If the heart leads the way, mine''s so confused. At any which moment it profuses, a hundred worries, a million paths, and in this road which I can''t long yet last, I ever sit stuck in my earnest woes.


    The fearful inside of me wants to run, the romantic inside of me believes, the impatient inside of me cries, pleads! In my heart I yet not know what I need.


    I want a slow love, yet... I want not wait.


    I want a passionate love, yet fear loss.


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    I want a gentle embrace, yet pushed so


    I don''t know what I want, does... anyone?


    To love passionately and for lasting, love slowly with no fear of disinterest, love gently without regrets passing; to truly love, flaws and all, pains and all.


    I think that''s what I want, to try again.


    To love one must become weak, I fear pain.


    To love one must give time, It''s uncertain.


    To love one must wish to talk, there''s silence.


    And to love, I must wait, fear, and wonder.


    To love, it makes the future uncertain.


    To love, means to hope, regardless of fear.


    If the heart is a map, compass to be, all mine points to is, at this moment,


    You.


    Perhaps it''s not so confused after all...

 Chapter 4.5: A journal note found in the maze of love

    I''m not sure what to make of my feelings, perhaps the most complex thing is my heart. it wants to burn brightly, fanning the flames, yet at the same time it''s afraid to fail. Ashes to ashes, and also dust to dust, that is how love has and will always be. Never without risk, not without worry, and I worry if this is really love.


    Perhaps this is a funny amusement, or perhaps an after thought like the past, perhaps I''ll never really know in true, or perhaps I''ll never really need to? It''s all so confusing, me and then you. I can not tell what perplexes me more? I''m so jumbled, my worries and my woes, you''re so calm and yet it''s not so simple... It never is, is it? That''d be easy... and we know that love is never easy, far from in fact, perhaps that''s what draws me.


    Anyways... I wonder where this maze leads, or are there perhaps multiple exits? or... have I already gone and picked mine? I''m not sure, I never was good at this, this horribly scary thing we call love, just the opposite in fact I would say, bumbling myself into ruin again... and again... and again, tragic I''d say.


    My worries define me, refine me, lies. They lead me to avoid my mistakes true, yet they end up causing me to make more. Hope we''re not at the point of no return, hope that there''s still something to fight for now. That''s all I can do sometimes, I''m so weak.


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    I''m not the most observant of fellows, nor am I the brightest I''d have to say. I miss cues, and I foolishly tread on forwards. I foolishly don''t know how to move on, and sometimes I feel, I move on too quick.


    I don''t know what to do but play the fool, overcommit, or not commit at all. I don''t know what to do, I don''t know you, I don''t know what you really want from me. I don''t know what I want from you either, it''s all so confusing to me. to you?


    I like you, that I know, but you... of me? I''m not too sure I have to say, really.


    I worry I''m just an interest, a fad, a piece of fashion to be thrown away. I worry that I''m just being humored, kept complacent since you can''t bear conflict. I worry I''m a burden to you too...


    I... don''t want to be thrown away by you, yet... I don''t want to be a burden too, It''s so confusing this weak heart of mine, it''s too confusing this thing we call love.


    I fear as though, it too will fade with time; with it, the memories I hold so dear.


    I fear as though, those memories mean not.


    But most of all I fear that it''s not love, but instead foolish one sided longing.


    Longings never answered, words never said. Longings once answered, but taken away. Longings of this heart of mine oh so weak. Longings, worries, burdens, and unsaid fears.


    I hope I''ll be able to set them free, I hope I will get an answer one day. I hope I''ll hear those words


    "I. Love. You. Too..."


    But sadly... not all hopes will get answered, and not all dreams will ever be fulfilled. That''s why they call them hopes and fever dreams, but that''s also why I hope and dream still...


    I''ll keep dreaming, till the day they''re not dreams. That''s my promise to you, to myself too...

 Chapter 4.6: Drowning in thoughts

    A thousand thoughts swirl within me, and I as fragile as I am cave, my thoughts creep like the shadows so ver'' dark, and fill up every last nook and cranny. My heart it beats yet it still feels so chained, I want something I know I can''t yet have, I want something I may never yet have, and it kills me, instils me with a fear. Yet it thrills me that I can still feel this pain, I''m in love again, and that hurts so much, I''m yearning again, I still know that much.


    But is that okay? My thoughts seem to say. Is any of this okay...? I''m... not sure.


    And so I''m at square one again, ba-dum. My heart it beats in my ear, in my fears, and I still, still, yet not know what I want. Only I''m afraid, weak, vulnerable, that is all I know, that is all I''ve known.


    To me that is love, to me that is fear. To me I''m not sure what I want to hear.


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    Is it... I love you? Is it... a clear break? is it just anything in this damned place?


    Where noises bounce on the silent cold walls, where the only thing that bounces is me. My hopes, my fears, my few anxieties. My silent pleas, never to be once heard, The falsities, the fear that it was false. The possibilities that I can''t see...


    And yet, I ask again, am I happy?


    Do I deserve to be so? I''m... not sure, and that scares me because I want to be, and that scares me because I want to breath.


    Again I drown in my silent of fears, and again I wonder what I can hear. Is it sounds of this cold reality... or is it me? My worst of enemies...


    Don''t know what I want, when do I ever? And I''m afraid of being so alone, but I''ve always been alone, it''s easy.


    Trapped in my own thoughts, no one can hear me, even here surrounded, I''m... alone. Even surrounded by friends, I''m alone.


    I''ll always be alone, maybe its me. Maybe I''m meant to be alone,


    alone...


    I''ve always been this way...


    I''m... afraid...

 Chapter 4.7: Who I was, who I am. The other me.

    I wake up to a feeling from long past, a familiar feeling, a fear lost. It''s the beating of a heart lain dormant, of a person that I thought that I outgrew. The urge to leave, the urge to hide away, I struggle against it, yet I can''t say. This feeling wrought deep inside of my heart, buried deep within my subconscious mind, from a time when I was far more alone...


    I''m used to being alone, I know that. It might be easier for me that way. Not having to worry about others, not having to worry about my heart, my refugee instinct to hide away, in my mind somewhere it still likes to stay.


    I''m worried, because I know I can''t run. There are things now that I can''t leave behind. I''m unwilling to give up, yet it''s hard. Running away was all I once could do, I don''t actually like conflict and stress, it''s so much easier being alone, what I do like though, is this place called home, I''m afraid of again being alone.


    Yet... that''s all I''ve ever known, all I''ll know.


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    I want to grow, I want to change, to stay. I want to be someone who is not me, I want to smile, I want to be free. Yet... I am scared of staying for too long. Instead of wanting happiness, I''m wrong, part of my heart only knows to be ''lone. I cling desperately to this light you''ve shown.


    As bright as I shine, my inside is dull, part of my heart can''t believe it''ll stay. There''s a doubt that happiness exist long, only flashing once, ending it''s quick song.


    If only for a moment, a short wink, my heart is happy, so ever serine. If for longer though, it can''t, won''t, believe. It can''t, it won''t, it hasn''t ever known, a happiness which lasted, which stayed still. The past me holds me back, gives me a hug, the comforting embrace of solitude. So cold, so familiar, so lonely, something I''ve known all my life. I hate it.


    So please, if someone ever reads this post, if someone can still believe in that light, believe in that happiness, in yourself. If you can smile one day, not give up, then maybe... maybe... there''s hope for me too.


    I want to believe, I want to kill him, the me of the past who still suffers now, the me of the past who just wants to rest.


    ''rest now, your traumas have passed. rest... sleep... rest... I''ll take it from here, your burdens, now mine. Adults should worry, and children should laugh.''


    ''To the past me... to the younger me... rest.''

 Side stories: For life is worth living

    To my dear friend for which I''ve known for long, maybe it''s these flashes of happiness, for which we continue to go along. For life is worth living, a single spark, a moment of happiness, a light heart. That''s what we pursue in the very end, moments of lightness when grieving can end. When our worries can fly far far away, and we can true say that we laughed this day.


    Things can be dark, undeniably so, and if these moments don''t stand out, they glow. Even in our darkest moments, not forget, to once in a while relax and let; Let our burdens free, fears, anxieties, let them all melt away like ice and snow. In moments like this where we can let go.


    There''s so much to live for, so much to say, while not all is bright, we have our days. From the sweet moments with ones you may love, to the fluttering of angel like doves. To the laughter which sprung fourth when you play, to the warmth of embraces, fading, stay.


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    There''s so much beauty to ever be had, I''d like to say far sharper than the bad, and while sometimes we may feel lonely, I hope there is a place which feels homely.


    You deserve happiness just as I. No, even more so, I do not say lies. In this world you are a bright north star, guiding your friends to where you right now are.


    I wish I was as bright, you truly glow. Without you, this world is darker I know.


    So live on, for life is still worth living, so live on to brighten the sunset days, so live on just to say ''I tried, I lived''. live on most of all to yourself forgive.


    I want to see you one day without guilt, your memories, friendships, they make a quilt, in the coldest of days, please do not wilt.

 Chapter 4.8: The end of this maze, this journey.

    The maze it cut off so very suddenly, steep, instead of a wall, a pit, black and deep. No words, no answers, not even a clue. I''m so confused... confused, what did I do?


    I scream into the void, into the black, and seemingly, expectedly, nothing. Only the lone echo of my sad voice, only the hoarseness, dryness, of my throat.


    I''m not sure what''s happening in my heart, a black box, a dark pit, just soullessness. I can''t hear a single whisper, no pleas. Part confusion, worry, anxieties.


    We said we''d communicate, that we''d talk, and it seems as if that was all just... talk? I''m still not sure how I really should feel. Is it anger? confusion? nothingness? My heart is just confused, from all of this. I had at least hoped for word of goodbye, yet here lies, yet here dies, any hope had. It''s tough, it is sad, but I can''t be mad. We all have our choices to still make, and you chose your path, that you will now take.


    I won''t yell, I won''t scream, just mourn my dreams. I won''t tell, won''t gossip, that''s between us. I won''t harm, I won''t hurt, another soul.


    And if this is, was, just a fever dream, and if all of the memories we made, and the pretty flowers shared between us fade, I enjoyed our time, even with tears blind.


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    My tears once again come to the bright light, and in the dark they shine like a nightlight, keeping me awake for days to gain'' come, and the pain of loss will continue come.


    I hate goodbyes, but the lack of moreso, black box of questions, ever remorseful. There is nothing here but blame, to myself, but blame all the very same.


    I know not what I did, not what you think, and that makes my questions burn bright moreso.


    I know not what went wrong, on'' that it did. I know not how I''ll get on, that I will.


    That is how it always goes, how it went. If this were a curse for old times, I resent. This feeling inside of me of my guilt, my unsteady heart ever to fast wilt.


    If this is love, my heart will be stained more, for my love continues to ever bore. I''d rather hurt than love on nevermore''. I hope to keep loving more, evermore.


    Thankyou for the memories, for my heart, if only for a moment it''s restart. I lived like a zombie for a few short years, in the past one however? All of my fears. They''ve taken light, my heart ever in flight, and so I continue down this lone road, because it''s the path I''ve chosen, lone picked, my heart is not frozen, bloody, cut, pricked.


    The end of this maze ends in tragedy, yet again I will gaze on mysteries, to find the very end, I will go there, To. The. Very. end. This maze it led loss, yet I will not die. We keep moving, chasing, the bluest skies! Till the ending made for us, love, unjust.


    Till the very end, I keep saying still.

 Chapter 4.9: Memories

    Instead of regretting, worrying still, lets think about all the good memories. The things I cherish so much so you see.


    I enjoyed your laugh, making you smile, I enjoyed those simple moments with you. I enjoyed hearing you speak, your sharp voice, every cute whisper, singing, or just noise. There are so many memories I hold, I''ll cherish them in different ways till old. And if I didn''t say that my heart beats, still, as I''m standing at clifflike defeat. It''d be a lie, and... I would hate to lie. Especially to you, to myself too.


    Thinking on those memories, a warm spring, and with all of the sadness that still brings. Thinking on those memories, I just sigh, To live, to love, to laugh, and then to die. Isn''t that what it means to be alive? Isn''t that what it means to love and try?


    I was blushing back then, called me a fool. I was flustered back then, when just called ''yours''. I was happy then, to be accepted. I wish those times could stay, I know they can''t. To travel so far back, I wish I could.


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    One day I received a flower from you, another you called me a lovely fool, another we just spent watching some shows, another we fell asleep on the call. I can remember those moments with you, premature? Maybe. My heart is a fool. For a moment I felt like I was loved, perhaps that was the most foolish of things, and to this very moment they still sting, but would I do anything different? I''m not really sure, these memories bright, not at all tinted by the present''s blight.


    One day you said that you would ask me out, one day I confessed my hearts love to you. And maybe I went too strongly, too fast. But I''m a fool, the fool you''ve always known. I am exactly what I''ve always shown, a fool, I have feelings for you.


    So many sweet memories, warm sun rays. If I could, I''d wish those moments to stay.


    Not everything will last, I still know that. One last time, I''d like to still play the fool. ''I love you, loved you, wish you the best''. I''d say I didn''t hurt right now in jest. Laugh out loud, be so proud, continue on. But I''m not sure if I can smile bright, all I know though is that i''ll be... alright.


    I''m always alright, I''m always alone. That is how things have always been for me. I''ll be okay, and just to play the fool. Dancing, and hiding, my worries away. I hope that the smile on your face stays. With or without me, and me without you.

 Chapter 5.0: A fading dream

    I had a dream where I made some real friends, we were actors prepared to go on stage. The script eludes me, far away. And yet in this moment, still, it felt real.


    What is the nature of friendship fading, what is the nature of dreams unlasting. Where both yet neither will last forever?


    The last day I went to the director, the last day I said my thanks and goodbyes. Thankyou for giving me a chance, thankyou. I said in my heart as earnest and true.


    Yet on my way there I also met them, my partner in these trials, perhaps, friend. I wished them luck, and wished them true, and wished. And wished that these friendships didn''t soon end.


    It felt hollow because I didn''t dream, because in that moment it would all end, and yet. The irony at the end of the night, it was even less real than that, a dream.


    We went to the set each week that passed by, for moments it felt like I was wanted, and for a moment I looked forwards still.


    Yet I woke up in the end, wanting null, knowing that it was all a dream, like last. Knowing that ultimately, those friendships, they were meaningless, those feelings, they too.


    And so I thought, and so I mourned, and so... I realized, that those feelings were still real. That even if lasting only a night, I laughed, I smiled, I waited, wept.


    That is the nature of dreams, of life too. Where at any moment our paths can shift, change to another track, never to cross.


    No one will speak of our time together, none will celebrate the small joys we did, and yet, even that, it has meaning still.


    We are living a dream, or a nightmare, and yet that does not make it meaningless. Is a second of true happiness worth? Are the moments we spend, even ending, worth something in the end? Worth something still?


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.I think so, because be it dream, or wake; things felt real, The moments they felt cherished. One way or another, they mattered still. Those dreams fading, those realities too.


    Alot of what we see today will change, doesn''t mean we should give up however. It means we should fight, just to make it last, just to make those moments of happiness.


    That is worth it on it''s own, that flicker; that shimmering in the darkness lasting. That matters, it really does in the end.


    Even if there are sparks that have burned out, Never to return, not reconciled. They meant something, if only in that time, and that''s enough, and that''s okay, that''s life.


    We the actors on the stage playing friends, perhaps never were friends at all, perhaps. But that''s part of life too, that sensed facade. It''s far too late to ask now, dreams ended.


    Yet at the same time, I cherished those times. They made me happy, no greater meaning. They made me smile and laugh, that was real.


    I look back at my past, and have questions. What words that were said, sent, were realy reall? I''m not sure, but that dream has ended now. There are resentments in my heart, yet none, no answers are to now be found, not now.


    Perhaps those words, actions, came in a blur. A flareup within emotion, moment. Perhaps those words were then true, no longer. But does it matter in the end, fading? Does any of it matter in the end?


    Only I can answer that, only you.


    What matters can only be picked by us, and I''d say those moments mattered still. Those moments where we laughed, like a lost dream, never to happen again the same way. I''d say that those moments really mattered, I hope that those moments were real to you.


    Even if no more than a dream, a stage, I enjoyed sharing that lone stage with you. Even if it was for you, just an act, I''d like to believe, that what I said was...


    real. ''cause I truly can say I laughed, smiled.


    That is the nature, of a fading dream.

 Chapter 5.1: Lingering regrets

    I wake up in the dead of night ajar, questions of what I could have done go far, and not a single one proves to be true,I know it, and so do you, the past is set. But my mind, it cannot quick forget.


    No matter how many dreams I think up, and no matter how many plans I see, if they were real, they would crumble quickly, this reality isn''t as kind see? I can hope, regret, and dream, to be free, these dreams of fated insecuritiy.


    I need to realize, perhaps it is true, I could have done better, done something new. But at the time it''d be no easier, knowing what I know now, knowing not too, I don''t know everything, I never do.


    Million variables swirl in my head, Yet still millions more are out of reach, and yet in my dream it seems so easy, and yet even with a second redo, It''d be no easier. I understand.


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    I did my best, that is all I can do. Those moments of bliss, the flowers bloomed true? They will never be the same as back then, but that''s okay, because I tried my best, I''ve walked my path, and I''d be damned if not.


    We can be stuck in the past, set as stone, and yet if we never move, we''ll starve. So I need to keep going, painful is; I need to keep going, for happiness.


    I know in my heart that one day this''ll fade, So thankyou, for the memories we made.


    If I went back would I do a different thing? Perhaps not, because my heart did not sing. I tried my best, and I can''t deny so, this is how it was meant to go, I know.


    The past is never simple as it seems, If I went back, my dreams would show their seams, I wish it was as simple as it seemed. Such a simple life is but fever dreams.

 Chapter 5.2: Troublesome worries

    And with every movement gone away, and each second that goes and passes by, my worries from the past shrink, future grows, and again I''m shot into the unknown. With that, unexpected circumstances, with that worrisome and stupid mistakes, and with that another story unfolds. To do what must be done, to face our fears, to wait for the unknown, a guillotine. It could strike at any time, sharp or dull, and with enough force to split me in two. Into my flesh, into my bones, in two.


    I made a mistake, I admit that truth, and with that something chases my pocket. I made a mistake, too late to change now, and so I will play this punishment game.


    The axe hangs grimly, the blade covered black, neither shining in sharpness nor rust stacks. That only adds to my fears, the unknown, will this be quick and easy, painful slow? And so it goes, this unsettling suspense.


    Restless nights with not a hint of progress, and neither a paper with my sentence, and nothing for me to do but brew, my thoughts stirring,  my worries growing, and not a single thing for me to do. What am I to do, who am I to hope, for a soft sentence where my neck is dry?


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    I am the sinner, but what is the due? What is my debt, and what should I still do? Could I have done better, or is it lost? Can I still do better? In bed I toss. I am at a lost, yet I feel so lost. Tomorrow it strikes down, my head is lost.


    In my dreams my head rolls down the hard stairs, but a blank stare of my face, so ashen, confused is it, scared is it, uncertain too...? In my dreams I see myself, behind bars, paying a large fine, no hope in the stars. And so I beg to the sky and the stars, ''please make it swift and painless, a small fee, I know I''ve done wrong but I beg you please, it''s not that bad, I hope it''s not that bad, only so ever deep'' in fears I steep.


    My worries about love are so long gone, I can feel them still in my memories. Yet they no longer keep me so awake, now in their place, another takes my peace. Can I rest for once atleast? So I plead. If only this world was as kind as that, if only my fears were so unfounded.


    These troublesome worries slow the clock''s time, and each moment stings like no other can, each fear individual, each thought hanging, leading to the very next, to my death. I wish I had someone to still my breath, in my last moments I choose to regret.

 Chapter 5.3: The calm after the storm

    I think in moments like this where I see, nothing but the worries that I have now, that those moments I longed for and still miss, feel so far away... yet... that is... okay? Yet... I am... still fine? It''s strange that I am. Yet at the same time, I don''t really mind.


    I think in ways, I''ve managed to let go, and in others still wonder aimlessly, and I''m not sure what to make of that still. But even if I don''t, I''ll be okay. Because I''ve learned to smile again, still; and even without you I think I can. Even as I''m alone... I never was, and there''s beauty to that I can''t describe.


    It''s in moments like this when I don''t bleed, when I don''t worry about the lost past, that I can truly appreciate them. The people I still have, and that I had. In that dichotomy the true friends shine, and in that dichotomy... I let go, because they''ve let go too. Long before me. In that way they are free, and me, as well. I think I''ve truly begun to let go.


    I think that I tried to tell myself that I... didn''t hurt, didn''t grieve, didn''t feel things. But that was a lie, to myself and you. But that was a lie to protect myself. If I ever said I didn''t feel pain, If I ever said I didn''t feel grief, and if I ever said I didn''t feel. That''d be a lie, and only when I''m free... do I realize that, the lies I told true.


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    These lies I once told to you... to myself.


    I told myself I was fine and alone. Yet neither of those were true. I have friends, I have family, I wasn''t alone. Even when I was hurting, missing warmth; in my arrogance and fear, I forgot. But having taken a step back to think, I don''t think it''s too bad. I''ll keep going.


    This journey which never seems to just end, I''ll see it till I just can''t any more. I want to see what''s at the end of this, because I know that regardless of what... I will have someone at my side, always.


    Blinded by my grief, I wasn''t alone, and perhaps no one ever is truly. That''s something I''d really like to believe. At times I hope that when people feel lost, that they remember those around them. It''s so easy to forget, yet have faith.


    That tomorrow will be a brighter day, and that today wasn''t truly pitch black.


    Yet have faith that we''ll be okay one day.

 Chapter 5.4: Splitting paths

    In the dead of night after the sunset, when the stars are above and ground bellow,  I look at the path behind me, lonely. I come to realize how far I''ve wandered. Alone on my path feeling just at home, I can''t help but wish for another here; each path behind me a diverged old tale, each fork before me a splintering tale. To what do I wander for, to what end? I ask myself this question without end. And so I wander again, sometimes lone. And so I wander again, sometimes not.


    Each path to our destination, our goal, I meet and separate from them again. Those of my past, and those of my future, I wonder if they''re all bound to depart? I hope, I wish, I seek, another''s heart. And so, again, alone, I stand and start.


    Perhaps this is the beauty of this life, to wander a lonely road so lonely, and to wander a lonely road so free. Perhaps this is the beauty of this life, to depart and split, to then find again. To make new bonds where one''s have disappeared, a heartless meaning so ever unclear.


    Those who will stay, and then those who will go, how can I tell what is for forever? Does that mean anything? Anything so? Perhaps not, and so I seek but a night, to make memories and to make more friends. Knowing clearly that this could quickly end, knowing clearly that it doesn''t matter.


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    Because of that though I''ll cherish them more, knowing that this all could sooner than end; my heart, and my laughter, I give to my friends.


    As if the moment is but a snapshot, a picture captured in time, (so ver'' still,) I make it sparkle with laughter, so filled; that even myself, my cynical heart, can''t help but open again; a new start. As if I was trying to blow away, miseries and regrets of the lost past, I make sure I''ll look fondly back at now.


    Those memories missed so much won''t return, yet that doesn''t mean the future we burn. There will be new memories, and some old; reunions and new stories will unfold. The past hasn''t ended, future not start, this adventure of ours continues, hark!


    And lo into the dark night our feet walk, and lo onto our adventure we''ll start!


    To laugh and smile, the beauty of life, to not live in regret we must now fight! Perhaps nothing last forever, who cares! These smiles we have won''t fade into air! This is what it means to live wholehearted, this is what it means to truly still live. To learn, to live, to smile, and forgive! Those are things we need to know; we will glow... no matter what the world will throw at us. That I truly believe, seize the present! Yet at the same time don''t forget the past,


    Now is the time to make memories last!

 Chapter 6.1: Reflections

    Can we live our lives in self reflection, are we all fated to just mirror past? Past all the trauma and sadness that last? What are we to do? Each action onto. Each thing we do once again, the same... This cycle unbroken, and we''re to blame. No matter how similar, we''re the same. By doing what we''ve done again, it''ll be.


    there''s so much in this world we haven''t seen!


    Yet... these days seem like a reflection still... I''ve said these words before, danced this same dance. It''s comfortable, to continue, in trance... Dance to music, reflecting our past. We''re puppets on a stage, not seeing past; the flimsy silver coatings of ourselves. So self absorbed that the past, present meld. Indistinguishable, it plays again.


    I can change something this time, but will I? We have free will yet we''re dancing in time. We''ve all said it! But who does it, it true? We''re all puppets on this stage, delusion.


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    This comfortable stage, this painful set stage, once again full of the same dancers still. So afraid of diverting from their trills, afraid of new thrills, content as they are. Never do they from the path, nor stray far.


    To self reflect, is to take the still past, ever unchanging as it may still be, and crush it! Remember it. Make it your own. Crushing it up, regrets as deep as bone, yet not denying it, learning from it. Becoming born again new, gasping, grasping, through. Becoming the writer, grabbing the quill, no need to write the same story again. Dip the pen, envision in your mind, go!


    Writing your own dance, writing your own song, it''s up to you what you will bring along! Is it your burden, your passion, regret? Those mistakes you wish you could just forget? What will you bring? Have you learned... anything?


    just setting on a path on your lonesome. Is there not beauty in that, yet there''s fear? Keep running, you''re fine, just don''t close your eyes! To the past, to the future, to the now, where are we heading and how? It''s to you. It''s to you, to decide what you will do.


    Don''t sleep. Life is too short for that you know?

 Chapter 7.1: A song of uncertain winds

    The wind now shifts and with it goes the tides, my heart it lingers waiting for whats lost, I''m not sure what''s going to happen now, I''ve never been sure, never that I''m sure. I''m just a boy who is still scared of change. I feel so lost, I feel so drained, shifting, that''s all the world ever seems to still be, no matter how I fight, how I now breath, I''m me, but I''ll never be me again. I''m uncertain, I''m scared, I want to bawl. Why does this always happen when things just go right? Why am I never given time to breath? It escapes me, air knocked out of my lungs. I''m falling into a sea of still thoughts, and I''m sinking to the bottom so deep. I can''t see it, this uncertain future. I can''t see it, who I will soon then be. I can''t see it, this path ahead or me.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Draped in black, draped in red, draped in blue, the colors all coalesce into dark. It could be bright! It could be nice! Could be. And that''s what scares me, I am now happy. Will that be ripped away? The past lingers. The past never stays, Will I be swept ''way?


    I wake up never knowing what''s the day, nor do I wake up knowing what is next, nor do I remember the yesterday. The morrow it flies on black ebony, the past I''ve closed my eyes. The now, is lost.


    I am lost, help me. I am lost, will be.

 Chapter 7.2: The beauty of a plucked rose

    I see it through shattered windows lain bare, the glass still sharp and reflecting a light. The stained glass of yesteryear''s beauty still. Even on the ground, so scattered away. I can''t help but look at it''s beauty now. A moment in time, a fleeting time; Something permanent, then fleeting, then gone. Something from my memory still does sting. LIkened to artpiece that no one can touch, a danger to themselves as to it now, these memories are left in rain and snow, the fear of getting cut, to damage it; persisting even after it''s own day. A scar from the past fading quick away.


    This beauty which somehow still contained, inside of this artpiece left unnamed, on the ground of our palace''s stone wall, our traumas, our tears, now left to it all. There''s beauty in that, this sadistic love, this heart broken love which we cannot touch. There''s beauty in that, the glass left untouched, a perfect darling until we crush it. Our hands in that moment bloody and gored. Only in that moment does the scar heal.


    This rose made of red glass, it has a scent, a feeling, a shape, a mockery of. This rose made of glass, if left still unplucked, will be dyed red, in our blood, once again. The moment of undoing, to repair. Perhaps easier to take a picture, then pretend that it was not still there, until we trip, and fall. It is still there.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Then what do we do with bloodied roses? What do we do with failed love gone awry? What do we do with circumstance shattered? Just stop and pretend that it not mattered?


    No, instead, like any other rose (glass); we smell it, love it, cherish the faint thing. Then we let it wilt with grace, in our face, bitter sweet tears from both joy and the pain, knowing that it mattered, it was once good, knowing that it was never in vain. The hall is spotless, but never the same.


    We have changed, they have changed, this rose of ours. The pain of it, pain of the lack of it; perhaps they both mean that it was once real. It''s hard to know how to feel, barren wall. Still drenched in our blood and pitcher water.


    It is dyed red, but that''s the beauty still, the scars left on our hands tell us it was. Perhaps another day, we''ll wipe the wall, then treat the next art piece more carefully.


    Perhaps another day, when time, it blooms. A different flower, a new small hope. Perhaps another day, it will then bloom.


    Until then, treat it gently, this hall bare. Clean it up, as slow as you''d like, blood slows.


    And one day, you won''t cry again I''m sure.

 Chapter 7.3: Perhaps thats not loneliness

    I''ve always run from my feelings, a guilt, and never have I stayed to look back there. My feet kept running till I couldn''t then, and again and again, I still run, ran. I''m not really sure what consumes me still, perhaps loneliness I always supposed, and still I''m unsure what gnaws at me still, my feet have stopped, but my heart still has not. It aches, it lingers, it waits, but for what? Again, I still sit there, unsure, always.


    Even when surrounded by friends it drags, Even when loved dearly it lingers there. Just outside of my own periphery, a shadow which reflects the light, it pulls. Will my heart never be satiated? Will I ever really rest? Is it guilt? Is it longing? Is it the past haunting? I''m not too sure. My heart is unsteady. Most of all, I fear my very own self. I perhaps am not the man I thought I''m. I perhaps am not the man I once was.


    That scares me, these self doubts, erodes me, draws. That scares me, who I never really was, and what does that mean to me, who is me?


    In my loneliest moments, I feel peace. In my most joyous of moments, I doubt. Can I find that happiness that I sought, or perhaps is redemption lost to me? A irredeemable soul, a lone one, one which is never meant to see the light. Perhaps I am now happiest alone, since there''s no one I can hurt, withering.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The flowers I''ve grown seemingly now wilt, and those that blossomed I have now quick cut, and perhaps that is no one''s fault but mine. And what of it? And what of it? I''m sin. Gilded, trying, lacking, I fail, now, then.


    Gilded, trying, lacking, I fall, now, then.


    I try so hard, I really do, yet still. Yet still. I seemingly fall short again. Why is that? Am I afraid of success? Am I dissatisfied with this ending? Eve with it''s glow, the finalle in sight?


    Perhaps that''s right, but I''ll try once again, maybe my happiness will come at last.


    Perhaps that''s right, but I''ll try once again, I push this boulder up the hill, then fall. This is my punishment, this is my task. I know I''ll find happiness one springs day. And perhaps then I will no longer long. The shadow of who I was still haunts me, the shadow of who I am will soon too, but I''ll keep moving, changing, improving, and then one day I''ll be proud, so, I seek.


    I dream of being someone I''m proud of, and although I am not yet, I will try. I still try, I tell myself that still, grasp.