Time becomes meaningless, in this place without change. Hope moves out of reach and light fades from the world. Only flame illuminate the devastation of our future. Behind it all we hear the quiet, mocking, laughter of those that won. Those that took our power and our freedoms.
More time passes in lockdown. I become all-too-familiar with the world around me. I break it up, where I can, with exercise.
In the war against time, our only ally is our slowly-faltering body. But in aiding the body, we can also aid the mind, building defences against both time, and our own lives.
I watch the quiet recharge, observing myself from a distance, even as I game. A weekend passes. I’m better for it.
Travel. Before the journey, comes the preparation. A time spent in the canyons of the mind, circling at the mercy of doubt.
A short story, a message to myself, found again by accident. Written a year ago. It is a message of hope, written in an uncertain time.
The second weekend of February. Clothed in red and white, it is a pretender. It claims to be the herald of romance, but it is not. It is, instead, the harbinger of emotional torture.
After what seems like the longest two weeks in my life, I can finally breathe again. These past two weeks have been the worst ones for my mental health and sanity - a mixture of anxiety, loneliness, and yearning, all packed up nicely in a small box and placed inside my chest. Yesterday was the … Continue reading Another Door [Onyx]
Thinking about the give we all need to have. The ability to bend inwards. The abiltiy to think about our identitiy.