lokapala

just because were liberated by our love doesn't mean we dont still get sad. the worlds full of sadness, and nighttime demands its turn every time the day is just getting started. our love was a declaration of mutual support, not some claim to invulnerability from emotions. wed never want that anyway. our emotions are what make life worth living.

thats something people argue most with me on. it used to be younger people who argued about it, saying emotions dont matter that much, but over the years those same young people became the old people of today, who kept their ignorance, and todays young people seem to get it. todays young people are more willing to see the significance of their emotions. im not sure why this is. neither is issy.


its been a year since i started writing this post. i couldnt finish it. i just couldnt. nobody will listen, except maybe for bad people who are after us in the first place. i had just about given up on keeping this blog. i just wanted to love issy and not worry about writing.
but issy needs me to write. she says, as long as im not writing, my depression will get worse. that means all the things associated with my depression will get worse too. and it hurts her to see the way i can get. so okay, i said. i'll do it for her.

lets see if i can explain a little better this time.


an emotion is the difference between exploring the invisible darkness of our minds with and without a torch.
emotions are caused. even when we are not warned, when we do not know their cause, those emotions still have cause.
'emotions' is ultimately a modern word for the true manifestation in our heads. before my time, people just called them 'fears.'


no i still cant explain it any better. im sorry. todays post lacks the spatial structure previous posts had.

guabancex

we ran. ran for hours, no goal besides together. were eventually stopped by a young person (no longer young enough for stars in eyes, too young for eyes in stars) who asked us for directions to school. issy apologized and shared our ignorance. misgendered the youth. apologized deeply for that. her blunder, once a source of her paralysis, today stretched opportunity's legs: faraday is our new friend's name. we don't know if they ever found their school, but we had enlightening discussions over barbecue lunch. faraday's bucket list involves visiting haiti and cuba, i think that's a great goal to have. there's a whole world out there just waiting for the next generation to be allowed outside to explore it. i await that day.

this post is named for a word they used during our discussion. issy followed along, brilliant as ever. i just took note of how the word sounded on the tongue. i think i like it?

nobody knows

we went to the smsc. we were working for them when the empty city got us. we figured we deserved a bit of severance pay or something. 'cause we're definitely done working for them.

while we were there, though, i felt like i saw nothing but ghosts. everyone showed the symptoms of having been claimed by a fear. and everyone hid it. badly. a guy who pretended he slept fine and did not dream of eternal carnivals told us to wait in a small waiting room as he went to find a manager. we sat next to two others: a crazy guy with the newborn's pocketwatch in his hands, and a mellower guy who let the dying man in him come out when he thought no one was looking. we kept to ourselves until a manager came out and started talking to them first.

the newborn's pocketwatch was apparently broken. manager offered money to buy it off him for research, but he wasn't interested in money. he said he was looking for a way to summon the newborn, that he planned to fight it. i laughed a bit too loudly here and that's how we got involved in the conversation. apparently they're lonely hearts. i didn't realize they were still around anymore. not affiliated with smsc anymore, that much was clear from the way the manager spoke. their exchange went nowhere, but issy knew how to summon the newborn, so she told them, and we exchanged blogs. just in case we want to catch up. those guys were ishmael and bellman.

oh, and right before issy and i left (with smaller paychecks and bigger grimaces than we'd expected) the rest of the lonely hearts came in. including an exact clone of me. so issy shot her. told the smsc to clean up their damn nobody themselves. then we left.

i'll find my way to hell (noro)

she did it. she killed the with a skip and a stumble we stagger and swagger and flatter ourselves out onto grassy knolls. we're out. heheh. we're out, we are really out. alive and free, that is issy and me. running atop, almost always sixteen, all the ways. and freeeeeeee. out of the empty city, into mother nature by a commodius vicus of recirculation, and no sentence will ever speak the same.

where do i begin? i already have. she is issy, and i am her lover. the spooky monsters have nothing on us. trapped in their empty city, but issy got us out. she just said we should keep running until even the city couldn't make more of itself fast enough. she has experience with this. i trust her. after all, it worked! the fears can't touch her no matter how hard they try.

i used to work for the slender man. i once called myself yoni, the creative force running through everything in life. i associated that with him. i found a sort of.. empowerment in him. but i was delusional. it's not important. i worked for him, i spread his word, delivered it to many, and then he vanished and the fears centered on us. i still don't fully understand what's up with that. issy doesn't either. but we have each other. we can do this, we can make this work.

she doesn't talk much. i don't either. but i like to write. i've even written some blogs you may have read, but you wouldn't know. i like ghostwriting. something about keeping stories alive, whether people are aware of me or not.

huh. now that i'm writing about myself, i'm really not sure where to go. that post-exit euphoria has faded. we may rest soon.