#breadrambles

Anyways, this is an emotional ramble fueled by delusions and is poorly written. Maybe everything I've said has already been said but I just wanna get it out.

Wifies mentioned repeatedly that Derek was a mold for us to project onto. But like, I think there's just an overlap between us as the audience and Avery.

And maybe this doesn't mean we're supposed to project unto Avery himself but moreso that Avery is one of us. Yes, he was THE vessel of choice. But the only criteria by the king was an uncorrupted mind. And there's only one person in our universe who has a corrupted mind.

Avery, despite being actually part of the story was still sidelined. He even only remembered everything after watching Wifies' video. Which, is similar to us, the audience, only knowing what happened through said video.

And yes, this doesn't really defeat the whole "mold to project onto" point, but I think it's more said for Avery. Derek is a hero. Someone who saved him and everyone else. And that's someone who deserves to be remembered, and someone we should idolize.

And well maybe, everything is just a letter to Avery. Hell, we're the ones to stumble upon their story. This story concluded without our input at all. Which just makes me so sad.

I just want to give them the time so cruelly deprived from them your honor. I want to explore and fill in the gaps (even if it costs parts of me), the blanks in their personality and how they lived outside His influence.

I cursed under my breath. The night is chilly and crisp like a refrigerated apple cut into pieces as a snack on a hot summer afternoon. Dogs bark in the distance, far beyond the walls of my own home. I stare emptily, watching the shadows dance on my wall. The orange glow of my lamp warm and soft, music plays in the background, filling the still night air with a gentle melody that fails to soothe my heart.

I... I don't know when it started. I don't know how it happened. All I know is that it's here, it's in front of me and it's something I must deal with. From the wall to the tips of my foot, the orange glow dyes everything in it's light. Yet, despite that, it doesn't illuminate beyond my window. And perhaps, this is how it has always been, and may be how it will always will be.

I've closed the door to my heart for a long time now, something I can vaguely remember as something I thought was good when I was younger. I was naive then, and I feel, no, I am even more naive now.

Somethings never change. Despite that, time brings new perspective to old wounds we thought has long scarred. Perhaps the problem never was that my emotions was foreign to me, but instead, I alienated them myself.

As I lie down on my bed, the glass of water on front of me has always been within reach. A little push, a little shove, and I can surely feel it's cool surface on my fingertips. It'll be easy to reclaim it surely, after all, it is mine, and it is part of me. And yet it's been 9 years of reaching, and only now I've realized that perhaps it was never across me. That maybe, just maybe, I was the one in the glass surrounded by the water all this time.

I scream, I spin, and I sing.