#nyans notebook

the second thing she gives you is loneliness. a constant hole, aching to be filled, yet unsatisfied with everyone you have (not that the list is very long, anymore).

it is so much worse. you cant imagine going back.

the third thing she gives you is grief (she calls it sorrow. it feels lighter, knowing she's still unfamiliar with its depths). grief for who you must have been Before, grief for the apathy you needed and yet cannot bear to return to, grief for the hole and the ache and the flood.

are you made to suffer, you wonder? (the only way out is apathy, he tells you. you take that to mean yes.)

the fourth thing she gives you is affection. for as much as youre made of suffering, you can finally turn your eyes outward. you see the people around you. and you care for them, living plentiful, peaceful lives, choosing to love a broken husk like you.

you try to return the undeserved...what was it called again?

she forces fear into your system. the bluntness of it spooks you away from her—from this unknown thing, changing your (rotten) (empty) core. she is going to change you!! you will lose what little you have left!! hide, hide yourself away so you never see her again!!

(not all purposes should be followed. you will learn this soon.)

she saves you from the brink. as her final act, she gives you curiosity, and you realize you do not know her intentions. why is she doing this? who is she? do you even know her name? how could you ever let her leave without the answers?

you have enemies. (youre starting to realize you always did). but at least she wont leave you.

youre...someone, now. not someone you particularly like, not that you know how, but...someone. and her, bless her, she gives you another purpose. she gives you devotion, that you might choose a cause you believe in. (you decide it should be her).

youre on your way to see an enemy's charade through when regret hits you like a sour sparkler. you thank her anyway, and march on.

tonight is not the night to give it control.

she's given you so much. you don't know how much is left, but the feelings in your heart make your thoughts spin in endless circles.

you try to give her something in return. something special, something precious. the first gift youve given in a long time. she notices, before you do, that you managed to give a piece of yourself in this gift. she goes to return it—

it hurts her. it binds her.

your enemies were close than you thought (for a terrible moment, you feared the pain came from you and you alone).

YOU WATCH AS EVERYTHING YOU HAD IS STOLEN, AS YOURE LEFT CHOKING ON THE NEW SENSATIONS SLIDING INTO YOUR CHEST, AND YOU FEEL—AND YOU FEEL—

AND YOU FEEL—

feathers. on your skin.

rose petals. under your head.

a sword. a command—another.

you watch him die.

you watch her taunt.

you watch yourself choose.

you watch her plea. her love, wrapped up in a grief so deep you could drown in it, if you werent already six feet into your own. and you feel yourself again, coming alive, taking a desperate breath and a stretch of your mannequin fingers.

and you reach for her. and she reaches back.

she gives you love. finally, you believe you understand her.

(you dont think about your new understanding of your "enemies.")

and hey, look at you! youre almost feeling like a person again! which is about when you start noticing how weird everyone around you is acting. is something wrong? is it because of you? is it supposed to hurt? is love supposed to feel like plucking out your hair strand by strand? no wonder no one can stand to be around you!