jane

i am

[meowmeowmeow9]

it goes without saying that i would not erase anything if i could. i hate forgetting. of all worldly things, of all material and monetary possessions i could possibly behold, there is nothing i would not trade for the opportunity to remember it all. in a perfect world i have a file cabinet and an itemized list of every moment i've ever lived with any given person at any given place at any given time. maybe this is because i know that my worldly possessions will be all that's truly left of me when i die. i know that i will exist in the memories of other people. but they will not be MY memories. the thoughts only i have thought, what happens to them? what happens to the words i considered saying but banked for another time? what happens to the deep rooted and unspoken feelings i have harbored but not discussed? i wish i could put them somewhere for people to see. more for their benefit than my own.

i love every person so presently as if they were standing before me and asking me to. i remember so many things that when i am reminded of something i've forgotten, no matter how small, it feels like for the briefest of moments i've peered beyond the veil and god gifted me the memory himself. without my memories, i am absolutely nothing. i wish there was a way that i could tell people in simple terms that i am cherishing them exactly as we are in each other's company in this moment right now. put that on a t-shirt: "this may be a simple conversation but i am actively developing memories of your existence in my life that i am cherishing now and will cherish in the future with unspeakable reverence and adoration." i think that would work.

a lot of the time i wonder if it makes me selfish to hope that other people think of me with the same kind of reverence that i've mentioned. i am young and so there are only a few people that i haven't spoken to in a long time and will never speak to again. the concept in and of itself is something i frequently fail to wrap my head around. we're never going to speak again? but two minutes ago, i was just in that room watching you in my doorframe singing lyrics into a hairbrush inside my head. you were just here, raking leaves in my yard because you had nothing better to do. we were playing legos on a blanket. playing dark souls on your computer. there are so many of you that i miss even if you aren’t fully gone yet. where are you now? where will you be? will i ever know? and maybe that's what it is. maybe it's that i'm so upset at the memories that circumstance won't allow me to make. years! there will be years of you that i don't get to see. so many faces of you and versions of you. so many tears and toothy grins and embarrassing moments. i grieve it like a divorced dad (satire but an accurate example). and honestly i don't think i'll ever accept it. don't tell me how okay it is, or furthermore how important it is to let go; i already know. it's my own advice that i'm not taking. because i resent it so much, i resent it that i cling to the fraction of you that i'm offered and don't ever get to see the rest. i will let you go, because it would be wrong of me to keep you where you do not belong or want to be. but i will never be contented to say goodbye for a final time. i will wait forever to see you in the supermarket or a movie theater. i will think of you when i see things you like and write it down someplace in case i ever get the chance to tell you about it. you will exist to me for as long as i am alive. some people might think this is a miserable way to live. i don't and i will never change it. the moment i begin to love you is the beginning of a permanent condition. i will love you forever. i will love you for ever. i will remember you forever. i'm remembering you now. i'm remembering you and i love you and i'll love you for the rest of my life, forever

[meowmeowmeow9]

s'tarra's journal

morndas, 11th of morning star

stopped at home in riften for rest, and to run some errands. worked on smithing, sold off some luggage, and armored up brelyna. she has grown quickly dear to me, and grows ever dearer---you should have seen her face when she saw me walk into the ratway after i said we'd "stop at my flat". i could sense her efforts to be decorous even as her hand twitched to pinch her nose at the stench. i'm not fond of it myself, but thankfully it doesn't waft into my living quarters. the relief in her expression as we passed the aromatic crackling of the hearth in the foyer was beyond amusing.

i let her take freedom in the armory, though she did her best to be mannerly. i haven't yet broken through the 'courteous acquaintence' phase with her. i had to practice manners myself, taking care to turn my back when she undressed. she laughed at this. she said, "we're both women," which is true, but indicates she's unaware of my orientation. i was initially shocked, but i realize now i've so far traveled with exclusively men. j'zargo and teldryn expressed their sexuality freely, and appreciated my sharing in such expression. traveling with brelyna, i am more considerate. or perhaps it was a test. perhaps she would have liked me to turn around, cast my eyes on her and discover what supplety lies beneath those college rags. no… i shan't write more, for fear i'll black the whole page with ink.

she decided to take up the steel spell armor, which looks darling on her in complement to the circlet i found. i can't help but notice i'm not the only one she turns the head of. in any case… now that we have the elder scroll, i'm to bring it to paarthurnax and read it at the 'time wound.' however: i'm low on some supplies and don't care to make haste back to that godsforsaken mountain. i've been considering a visit to the mysterious dawnguard for some time now. brelyna's ears all but perked like a puppy's at the mention, so now we're certain to go. i'll be sure to inquire about her interest on the way.

note: i can't find my daedric crossbow, and that ash-headed bastard sero best bend a knee to me if he swiped it up on our last meeting. i'm not desperate for it, but the thing came in handy many a time. perhaps the dawnguard can offer better. wish me wish us luck.

---

"gracious! after all that action in mzulft, two cave bears feels like a scrimmage." brelyna laughs breathlessly, already charging magic in her fists as she catches up to me. noticing the corpses at my feet, she lets her palms rest, almost bereft. sunlight cascades lazily on the rift; i'm wishing there was a spell that could make this weather permeate the entire province.

"imagine castrating ash spawn in morrowind every five minutes," i call back, replacing my crossbow in his holster. "angry fuckers." brelyna shakes her head. "so crude." i chuckle, but thank the cowl on my head for preventing her from catching me blush. she fingers the straps of her bracers, meanwhile freki paws at the dirt impatiently. "you could have gotten a horse from the stables, brelyna. they're hardly a few septims to me." "no," she says, "this is more efficient." i cock my head and quirk a brow at her, to which she shrugs, smiling sheepishly. "i like to get my steps in."

we rediscover the cobblestone road, which reveals our shortcut was unnecessary. i'm glad be without teldryn, who would certainly make a mission of commenting on this folly. but brelyna focuses on the hole in the mountain, which gapes like a wound that undoubtedly leads to the dawnguard. i park freki just beside it unbridled, trusting i've trained her well enough to idle where i leave her, or defend herself when needed. her copper fur shines like bronze in the sunlight. i think back to morrowind, back to aerin, and imagine myself burying his sneer right into freki's filthy tail.

brelyna and i pass through the stone, and follow the path down a great crevice in the mountain. it's already colder than the road, and the wind threatens to chill me further. in my head, i threaten to shit on said wind, if it were only personified. everywhere in skyrim is much too cold for my liking. i knew it the moment i crossed the border and landed my gray ass in the imperials' carriage that i'd be freezing it off every step of the land. it feels like a punishment for all the time i spent complaining about the heat back home. brelyna's teeth chatter, and i turn to see her grinning.

"i wouldn't expect a student from the college to be so invested in the dawnguard." i comment, careful to watch the path in place of staring at her. she shakes her head. "i'm enthralled by it! my father was a vampire hunter. he told my brother and me stories about the dawnguard, the ancient order of relentless vampire hunters, unstoppable even by the most powerful. i thought it was all a bedtime story until now." she gazes at the stone above, looming over our heads like a good samaritan offering shelter. "my father was a good man. he wouldn't know what to do with himself i told him i met a dawnguard soldier." "you're going to meet a few of them." i add. "where is your father now?" brelyna's eyes fall to me from the stone, and i sense i've made a mistake. "he's… well…" she says nothing more, and we let the unspoken tail the breeze until the only sound between us is boots crunching sleet.

[meowmeowmeow9]

every time i play skyrim i force myself to write something inspired by recent events in the game so i'm not just mindlessly chudding around for hours and i have to actually use my brain doing something literary so i thought i'd start posting the stuff here sometimes because this account is a rolling tumbleweed of nothing lately so here's what i wrote first. this is my LDB oc named s'tarra, she's a dunmer and she's very strange and i would hate her if i knew her irl

s'tarra's journal

loredas, 9th of morning star

tangled up again. there really is no rest for the wicked. i suppose i should actually make use of this journal, if it's bound to consume space in my satchel and apply pointless weight to my back. additionally, i would be remiss if i let a gift go unused. i've grown fond of tolfdir. i can't calculate anymore how long it's been since my arrival in this blizzarding dung pile of a province. my entry itself was a complete mess. i don't even want to write about it. every which way is a new… experience, of what some may call 'adventure,' though i'd refer to it as inconvenience. but i left morrowind to make a meaning of myself, and it would be ignorant to behave as though i haven't done exactly that---in less than what i believe to be two years, i'm now thane of two cities, guildmaster of the riften thieve's guild, arch-mage of the college of winterhold (complete scatterpan, that one), and bathed in more gold than i even know what to do with. if i didn't know any better i'd assume i'm the richest woman in tamriel. i even have children. mother wouldn't believe her bloody eyes.

anyway, i'm in the middle of something. after petty conversation with a madman, a hulking dwemer construction, and countless battles with the obscenities that infest the dwemer ruins, i'm in the glowing asshole of god knows where, seemingly referred to as 'blackreach.' all because of a nordic scribble. well, i've got somewhere black for delphine to reach into. i despise nearly everyone i've had the misfortune of encountering in this province. too many snowbacks; hardly a dunmer in sight in most major cities. my kind appear to be neglected here, like mother said. if you haven't busted your buttocks blue or sucked the dick of a white man, you are laid to waste away in the slums of windhelm or scrape stone in the mountains. i was pleased to visit solstheim, which is very reminiscent of my homeland, though the only city on the island is in near ruins. the vendors are poor, and half of everyone was slaving away in the night at building a stone dildo for miraak, the cunt. i care little for the prophecy of the dragonborn and such drabble, but that arrogant, self-serving, cowardly excuse of power is going to get what's coming to him. the blades should kiss his furry asscheek, lest his head is too far up his anus to kiss the taint. esbern is all right. but delphine has only miraak to thank for me indulging any of this dragon blood bullshit. he is the only reason i'm putting up with this. if being beat to hell is what gets his nipples hard, he's going to die with an erection.

there was a mercenary in raven rock i let join my travels for a while, one teldryn sero. he was outstanding, while he lasted. but his morals were too just for his accompanying me. you kill a few civillians and the sky comes crashing down, apparently. to be fair, he was quite forgiving. i was impressed by his patience. i found myself acting out just to test his limits. i managed to get a rise out of him, though one too many times. he left my service in riften before i sought out the staff of magnus. i let the imperial at the bee and barb join me on that excursion, and i'm glad that was all she wrote. the bastard was completely futile. j'zargo was of more use, all things considered, his company was pleasant if nothing else. a well-humored cat, that one. but in the hall of attainment, i knew who i would like to fight alongside me, only after she turned me into a cow. then a horse, then a dog. and that was after she turned me completely green for about six hours.

skyrim has many maidens, though few of them fair---much less are they of my likeness. but the college was witholding much more than knowledge, i came to discover. i met brelyna maryon during my first lessons with tolfdir, and she caught my attention immediately. irritated by my business, i hadn't taken the time to pursue her. most of the students there are of hideous arrogance anyway, and i was too busy trying to rescue the whole of winterhold to take any time flirting with a necromancer. praise boethiah i hadn't forgotten her. she sought me out in the dorms just before i left with the cat, asking for help with an experiment. gladly (of course), i obliged, made friendship with her, and here she is in the stone seat of late 'sinderius' no less than five paces from me.

she's been the first (might add, only) companion i've had to make her presence simultaneously useful AND pleasant. she's beautiful, so i enjoy looking at her, and her voice is like honey dripping from a golden spout. i can't believe i'm saying this, but my heart does race when she is near, as well as in quiet moments like the one present between us now. i wonder what she is thinking, and how she thinks of me. i've taken to wearing my cowl more often, given that she can't read my expressions when i have it on, and can't look too hard at my forgivable appearance. i'm not one to believe i'm ugly, but a woman makes me self conscious.

i wasn't expecting to write so much. but, come to think of it, i should have, as it seems every one of my ventures here result in something thrice longer than necessary. i don't have much longer to waste though, and i fear brelyna grows suspicious of my scribblings. i'll write more as i progress. thank you, tolfdir, for the journal---though it won't be used for what you'd hoped. homework is beneath me.

[meowmeowmeow9]

i imagine it’s the trees that move the earth; they stretch their backs and walk across the heavens, heel-to-toe and light footed so the blind don’t notice, the way a cat pads down a dark hallway. the firmament is a steady elliptical for the evergreen, holding the hand of the planet while it breathes dreams into children, a music in the air for the golden-glow soda pop nocturnal. the trees are all brown eyed girls, nails painted olive. tonight the pine will cross their ankles and gossip at their leisure: did you hear the one about the birch and the fir, yeah yeah i’ve heard them all before, but what about the lumberjack and the widowmaker, please spruce i’m trying to enjoy my evening. and they laugh. and the oak will trot in cliques of three and tiptoe on the stars like stepping stones. and the sun will yawn a gaping mouth of amber on the clouds, and when the morning rubs its eyes with daylight, a dreamer will sit on the porch, and watch the trees walk. the sky is a great bed, she thinks, large and soft and warm. the comfort of the dead. it’s easy on the eyes, she thinks, and what a place to be, and how long have i been here. all of the sudden it’s lunch. so perhaps it’s the dreamers who pass the time; the trees just change the sheets.

[meowmeowmeow9]

street lights every night

talk nice, red and bright

dont go home, it’s not the time

take it slow, the road is mine

precious sky, the stars alive

waving hi, watch me drive

scoop me up, cradled high

where all the love pours out my eyes

getting home, and that’s alright

the windows glow, there’s love inside

and in my mind, you’ll see the sight

of the stars alive the night i died

[meowmeowmeow9]

it was the next morning, and the tension was there

it hardened my bones, and it stiffened the air

and i knew that already, the reaper was winning

that behind all that white, the sunshine was dimming

and in my friend’s eyes the color had gone

where once there were many, and then there were none

and above us was heaven, with clouds i could swim in

but the sky’s always beautiful in the eyes of dead women

it was the next morning, the sky overcast

white as morning glories

i’m swimming at last

[meowmeowmeow9]

i drank up all the cherry red

and left it on your counter

in the room in which the girl lay dead

in the corner where they found her

it was dripping from my mouth

when they asked me if i knew

and one by one, my teeth fell out

and from my lips it spewed

i watch it dripping on the tile

and imagine it is hers

in a pool beneath her form

because i was bleeding first

i drank up all the cherry red

i can taste it in my mouth

i lie and say she hit her head

that’s how it all went south

[meowmeowmeow9]

memo 13

i was thinking about cambria, and how i spoke to the beach in the night. i wish that i could remember what i said. i thought, if i stood in her breath today, she'd whisper it back to me. i should have known better. she smiled and said nothing. i forget that the ocean is reticent, and, gentle as she is, powerful. i deceive myself. that's the funny thing: she is not deceptive, in fact, she is as honest as honest can be, and maybe that's because she says so little. but the ocean has no purpose for lying. she has hardly any purpose for speaking at all. i imagine she is all the things i ought to be. the perfect role model.

i wonder often about when this blessing will be lost on me; when i will take this all for granted, and not be in constant, acute awareness of my fortune in all ways. i thought it would have come by now. but my lips taste like salt. the sand warms my feet. i am worried the sun will burn me. i hear their voices all around, see them in my peripherals, and there's music in my ear. how could i forget the ocean when she is all around me? how could i not see the shadows of the birds stroke the sand and think to myself, "thank god, thank whoever is above, that i was placed here, of all places in this world, with these people out of all 7 billion. 8 billion? who cares the number? many." who wrote this song? what is the name of the dog and who is his family? god bless them all. if god is nothing else, let it be the love within me for you now.

every time i come here there is a point where i can think of nothing else other than how little time i have left, how unfair it is. it makes it hard to even write, for how much i can't bear to look away. words are too little. the water is so much more than that. the light evades me; my hands are too cold; is this what it is? i feel like i am rehearsing something. losing you is when the sun goes away and my hands are too cold to write. it is time to leave and i am so afraid. but all moments are frozen in time at the beach. and i remember everything. i will never forget you here, and when one day you leave me i promise i will come back to this place and breathe in the are we once shared. for as long as the water moves, for as long as the sun is shining, i'll look at the water and see you playing in it. your laugh is in the crashing tide. and god is all around me. i love you.

[mellum]

[meowmeowmeow9]

the night the lion swallowed the moon i waited to see you there i was cold with my shoes beside me i was tired and my feet were bare

in the sky it was round and red ashamed of what it hid the moon appeared to bow its head just like you always did

in some other place i think you saw it and i wondered what you thought if you get the chance, you can tell the moon we talk of you a lot

[meowmeowmeow9]

here’s a song i sing to my cat fifty it’s called “pretty kitty lullaby” and she likes it for bedtime

my little kitty,

my pretty fitty

she is the best thing

in all the world!

my baby kitty,

my little fitty

she is my favorite

little girl!

she is so lovely!

she is so silly!

she is so funny,

and so smart!

she is the only

little kitty

who is always

in my heart!

my little kitty,

my pretty fitty

she is the best thing

in all the world!

my baby kitty,

my little fitty

she is my favorite

little girl!

[meowmeowmeow9]

i went somewhere

[meowmeowmeow9]

in my next life i'll ask myself if i've known you before and then i'll realize that i've known you forever

and from here on out i won't forget

that you are what forever is

[meowmeowmeow9]

i feel it perpetually: there is light and the smell of pine. the sound of it is bright, and your hand is holding mine. i turn to look at you. you go to fix your hair. it's all so unbelievable. i can feel you standing there.

we're together in this place, it's warm i'm scrutinizing your face, your form, and the words are not enough. i'll stay here with you forever, your stuff among my stuff.

how do i explain it? will you listen to me try? i love you, merry christmas, forgive me if i cry.

i have a lot of dreams where i get to hold you tighter. i'm not ashamed to tell you things, and i'm a better writer. you are swallowed whole by the sunlight that you wear and we're both a little old for our souls to be so bare.

you tell me about your life. i tell you about my own. i dread opening my eyes. dread waking up alone.

"don't go," i say, and you smile at me contently. you shake your head a quiet "no" and speak back to me gently: "when you wake up, i'll still be there, no matter how it seems; you'll see the sun, squint at the glare, and forget about the dreams. every so often, your heart will feel something it can't define." i frown and ask, "what is it?" you say, "it's your soul loving mine."

i have this conversation with everyone i meet. i wake up from the dreams, and time proceeds to fleet.

i feel it perpetually: something i can't define. it's my soul loving yours. i hope that yours is loving mine

[meowmeowmeow9]

12/20

[meowmeowmeow9]

are you there at night too? do you smell me in the air when it’s cold?

i’m there. i’m there in the daytime, i’m there when it’s bullet-sweating hot outside. when i’m warm and dry in class i feel the cold soak my socks, i feel how i cannot feel my toes at all. i would stand in the snow for hours with you.

there’s a pocket in the universe reserved for this memory, for you and i. and i don’t envy her, that version of myself in the snow with you, so long as i get to feel her in the shadow of my mind. you are always a thought away.

in my mind, you are every memory

[faustique]

did you get the dream i sent you?