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I did it!
It only took four days of playing on and off and I finally found chamber 46!
haven't solved all the mysteries yet and I really need to empty the reservoir and figure out what the classrooms are on about and find the missing 4? 3? letters and figure out what went down at Sandy Heights...
But that's all inconsequential. My boy Simon has a weird-ass house now and it took him less than a month (24 days) I am so fucking proud of myself :DDD
"why do you never tell me about your problems? let your mother help you."
because every time I tell you about a problem, it creates another problem called:
"shitfuckshit my mother knows about this!" which needs immediate mediation and takes a lot of energy, which is often needed to solve the actual problem.
💕if you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog!
first fact: i almost exclusively use tumblr on my phone and i've been on this site for a decade
second fact: i got a monster energy can collection even thoug i live in a country where "pfand" is a thing
third fact: since i changed my medication, i started tackling a new long outstanding project each day, which is kind of amazing
Ha Ha!
I discovered that apparently i am capable of writing a second trope!
No longer am i limited to long introverted character studies of "how would this blorbo get home after traumatic event X?"
But also i can write angsty husands being like: "I am no longer the man you married!" with the wife (usually also a man) standing next to him: "doesn't mean i will love or support you any less idiot." I wrote several long form fics with this premise before figuring out that that's what i'm doing...
It's idle games and british comedy shows and obscure chinese dramas i watch on my shitty old laptop.
It's my cat on the pillow next to me and my roommate cursing at his video games.
It's the street lanterns light spilling in my room, the rain knocking against my window and it's the task i still have to finish before I can go play Subway Surfer again and fall asleep in disorganized dreams like i conditioned myself to.
It's the friend that calls to take a walk around the block that sulks when i mention going home because he wanted to eat dinner together. It's the classmate that takes me with her to her appointment because I can't talk and her phone is dead.
It's the millions of tiny things that other people did for me to enjoy. None of them created with my joy in mind but resulting in it anyway. It's the millions of things that i can do to fill another's day with the same.
One day i'll be gone and you won't be able to recognize the paths i took, because all of them have been formed by those that came before me. We are each of us a miracle.
We are made to care about each other.
My roommate is... On top of his game when it comes to finances, his household chores, his priorities are straight up organized.
He dutifully checks the calender and marks his absences and communicates his needs and takes care of my cat when i am not home. He talks to me about his day and his feelings and he takes responsibility for doing wrong as well as thanking me when i do something for him.
He listens to my advice and incorporates new decisions easily into his life, he has a good therapist and a wonderful girlfriend and commends me for being strong and wise and loyal.
He looks out for our finances both while shopping as well as rent and utility costs and lends me games i want to play and has never once judged me for taking things harder than they are.
He is devoted to those he cares for (of which i am part of) and is genuinely a boon to have in my life.
There are days when i genuinely cannot stand him.
It will sound like jealousy when i express my disconnection with his choice of lifestyle. It will sound like pettiness when i complain about a task he forgets while i am slacking in mine for weeks. It will sound like impotent anger when i state my bafflement over the fact that he thrives on the advice i give him that i know i wouldn't be able to follow.
He picks up what i put down and it should be good, genuinely i know. And i appreciate him.
But there are times when i wish he would just let me waste away on my own.
Those that i surround myself with are such incredible, such genuinely Good people, to be loved by them is a mark of honor.
It does burn like a brand sometimes.
What exactly kind of brain worms do i have that i'm writimg three stories simultaneously right now and each is about a knights devotion to his king. Why?
May i ask, my brain, my liege, the one that governs my every thought, why do you intend to drag me down this path again and again. Has the devotion not been tested enough when the Knight forfit his life?
When he shunned steed and squire? When he woke up, the dragon slain, the princess saved? Why does he insist on fighting on?
Why can i never let him rest? Throw him against worse monsters and worse? Why can't we ever slow down and revel in the peace we created for ourselves?
The sword was left behind, the other path was taken. The faith has been recinded and still the knight kneels to prove his devotion. Why won't anyone help him up? Stand on his own two feet? Why does it have to end in tragedy? Why is the only way for him to rest in the grave?
These thoughts have gripped me and i write three stories simultaneously.
One about an emerging, a becoming. The boy will be a knight and he will forge himself to be his kings weapon.
One about a knight seen as himself. Utterly devoted and proud, but still only capable to dream about being seen as a knight. Serving the only one who cares for him, trying to nudge and push and further his masters power, so that one day the boy might be called king and he himself seen as his trusted sword. A pact and a demon made of dreams will not change who they are or will become.
And the third, the one i work on the longest... My knight a creature from the realm of fairy tales, his opponents of immeasurable power, a lonely sword, one of many and still valued. He becomes disillusioned with his place in the world tries to trade who he serves for, but never can he eschew his role, become something else, more. He has ample opportunity to take the crown, to swear allegiance to someone else, to follow his own desires and yet the path of utter destruction, the one he will never recover from is the one most tantalizing to him.
My knights are stupid and brave and honorbound and glorious. Never beautiful, never desirable, never deserving of anything good nor bad. They could get what they want but none is capable of taking anything for themselves.
I write about losing your personhood in the act of following your dreams, i write about the harmful ideation that "having to be strong" creates, i write about the inherent romantic notion of never giving up, of slowly, piece by piece unraveling and giving yourself away.
Most of all i write what the tug in my stomache and the stone in my throat make me unable to say...
The question remains... Who am i becoming? Who will i be the next time i look onto my taken path? Why do i want this so badly?
You know how fucking insidious it is, that most of the shit i get ads vor are either meal kits or meal replacements?
"i got a busy schedule" "sometimes i forget to eat" "after a long day at work i got no energy to shop for groceries let alone cook them" "it only takes 2 minutes, 10, half an hour!" "sent directly to your doorstep" "i know the grind, the stress, would rather do anything else but concern myself with what to make for dinner" "for your lunch on the go!" "healthy" "protein plus Version" "lactose, gluten, animal free" "i always have it on me" "this way i don't have to go to the hassle" "got my mind free for more important things"
Food. They don't want to sell us food anymore but meal plans and diets and ways to shorten our interactions with it.
You know what Culture is?
It's 5 things:
Community (which they tell you to get on their highly curated Social Media sites, let the Algorithm decide when you see your friends!)
Clothes (which they already got us to give up upon so completely. You can't discern german from french from American from japanese if they all follow the same fast fashion trends)
Language (which they too are trying to overtake, everything is English, everything is pc, everything is polite, everything is "scrubbed clean for the advertisers" of course it's never going to go completely, but if i talk to my peers in my mother tongue, two thirds of the words spilling from my tongue are going to me english or anglizised)
Entertainment, meaning: Art, Music, Theater the stuff we watch and listen to, the stories we see. (which they too are trying to conform, sell for my convenience, easily reprodusable at little cost for them, blockbusters and AI-shit, industry plants and funny ad singles, everything is out to sell me shit and if my favorite podcast or youtube person tells me the same 5 selling points to the same fucking company one more time, i swear to fucking God-)
And Food.
They take everything away from us. They want us to be uniform. Fit in one of 5 labels, best yet fit in all of them. So they can market to us, so that i buy the same shit, spend my evenings the same way, talk about the same issues and never vear from the script.
Free up the time i would normally use to make a decision about who to meet, what to wear, what to say, what to watch or listen to, what eat to make more money, strive for a more productive life, be the best version of myself????! What the fucking hell?
Fuck you corporation. You might speak in my friends voice, you might look like a person i trust, you might say you have my best interests at heart, but i am eternally trying to get rid of all of you. Fuck you.
And that too is what they want, because i am amgry with no way to channel the anger. Only way i can direct it is against myself.
I don't know who is behind this drift, far too many people have found "market holes and niches" far too many people pounced on the opportunity to make quick buck out of the misery of the everyday worker, far too many want the money i earned, promising me that i shall feel a connection, a bit of relief, freedom, time for myself, a good feeling at giving to a good cause or person. Promising me, if i just made a bit more, if i was just that bit better, as a person, as a productive member of society, i would deserve the time that i so selfishly take for myself every evening when i cook, every long phone call that i lie on my bed, every moment where i do not cunsume content mindlessly.
They've long since taken any connection i might have had to my home, now i just need to conform.
That's why conservatives gain strength, to push us all down, to make sure we follow the invisible rules of society because if you don't conform you can't be labeled, can't be put away, you will stick out and rebel or refuse and we don't want that, do we?
Fuck everything, i wanna burn the system to the ground!
