Until the wound becomes a window

Thinking about how part of Qifrey’s whole deal is that he's never been allowed to be alone in his own body. there's always something else in there with him. his body is never allowed to just be his body, it’s also the haunt of another being, one that has a very specific use for it — and it has been in there longer than he has, within conscious memory. it was waiting in there the whole time while he formed his own identity from the blasted wasteland the brimcaps had left his mind. and then how this dovetails with the feeling of being constantly watched; you have the panopticon of pointed hat society on the outside seeking to monitor his outward actions, ready to strike the moment he steps a toe out of line where anyone might see, and then this internal force monitoring how he feels on the inside, ready to strike the moment he lets his guard down and relaxes. nothing ever really gets to get in, and nothing ever gets to really get out, and he's always being watched.  

in a desperate attempt to squeeze some dopamine from my poor harrowed brain I've finally caved and bought Baldur's Gate 3 on a sale lol. so far it's kind of working. my tav character concept: half-elf bard to the tune of rock star (sort of a david bowie-esque situation) in the fading/crashing out phase of their career. just the full frank spicer experience of creative crisis. they woke up hungover and pitiful and with their makeup running on the nautiloid ship and was kind of relieved honestly b/c at least this gave them something else to think about. listen. I had nothing going on back in baldur's gate except destroying my liver and what little remains of my artistic credibility&integrity and also interpersonal relationships, at least this whole 'desperately fighting to not become a squid' situation is something to do