He is seventeen years of age this very day.

To those of you who were not aware, I very much wished you to be.

Please do wish him well, if you so please.

Thank you. ♥

P.S. I believe he shall be absent today, but I assure you, he shall receive your wishes this eve or tomorrow morn.

seeing someone sit all by themselves.

I know how it feels, did you know that? I know what it's like to come in and be too shy to approach anyone, and sit alone and hope and pray someone stops.

An hour.

Another.

Another...

I know what it's like to get fed up with the loneliness, to search for a golden name in the blackness and run there... And once it becomes bright, to halt, to pause, to draw back and look along to periphery... To walk slowly, and despite everything inside of you telling you to give space, to be polite, to ask permission, the loneliness drives you. There's this craving, pure and raw and simple and strong, to be near another, to know some being aside from yourself in this place recognizes that you exist.

I know that quiet approach, that gentle sit, skittish and terrified and desperately alone.

And I know that purple smoke. I know that stand, that walk, that sit in another place. I know that rejection and abandonment. I know what it's like to not even get the courtesy, and at this point that is what it feels like, of a turn of antlers, a roar. It isn't just being rejected from that space. It's being rejected even from recognition.

Sometimes fighting tears, because no matter how much we know it should not matter, it does, there is the search in the blackness for another golden name. There is the run, which is, with the sadness, all the more desperate.

And one after another, watching them sit away, leave, and God has mercy sometimes when they at least get angry and say go away.

I know what it's like to leave not having found company for hours.

I know what it's like to feel alone.




This is not to place blame. I realize some characters like their space, they like to be polite in dismissing others and not raise a fuss (though it is more clear to give a shake of a head), and I realize whining has never got anywhere. I am not upset.

What it was like when you came here and you didn't notice fighting?

I'm not pointing out any, because honestly I'm not here enough to see it. I got tired, very tired, like one gets tired after they carry something very heavy for a long time.

I just got tired and that's one reason you don't see me so much anymore.

But I have close ones here, you know, and they come and they're hurt and I hurt when they're hurt.

I have no idea what's been going on. Some of you won't remember me, perhaps, and some may not recognize me, and who knows what else.

And this isn't to say you haven't been, because honestly, I don't even know what's been happening here for the past few months.

The next time you talk to someone, no matter how mad or sad or anything you are, could you be nice please?

It can't hurt.

Thanks.
I love you guys.

http://www.endlessforest.org/community/Nonsense

I wonder.

Oh, hi guys, by the way. xD

I love her. Do you?
She needs it more than one might think.

♥

I had the spontaneous will to write a firsthand bit of prose.
I can almost guarantee I'll be doing this more often, later. I've had plans for a while.
If anyone objects, let me know. I'm not, in all honestly, sure if it belongs.

-

A language warning may be necessary.

When a single voice becomes many.

---

A soul is an odd thing to the material world. To some, at least. To those not in touch.

Atvana watches, but how is that different? Beloved priest Ezra, so much to learn.

Love is the only thing that can save this world.

The fallen one lay by its side. It glances to the arrow, a melancholy turn on Cupid’s fine quill. An object meant to destroy love. An attack on the fabric of which all is constructed.

Beloved children, so much to learn.

Between life and death is sometimes a place, when the time calls, where all seems like the material world… And yet carries so much more potential.

Alasdair sits up suddenly, determined to flee to his Prince. Something is wrong. An arrow in his back, he knows but does not feel it. Along his side, he does feel…

“You seek your Prince, Lovell.” What a strange voice, voices. How impossible to ignore, and yet so easy to miss. Extending forever into the depths of time and space, expressing Truth pure and unhindered. Affirming to the Universe what has been said without a chance of dispute.

He does not speak. The arrow in his back remains, and yet still no pain. He looks around to the trees, the forest. It is the same, and yet… It is different. Ethereal.

The creature glances toward him with its eyes. Gold, a color that could never be captured by the finest jewelry, even of his Prince. Deep, perhaps deeper than the voice.

“Yes.” It escapes from his mouth as if it was alive, full of energy and desire and need.

The creature’s eyes shut, and yet its sight is never lost. Its smile widens slightly.

“As you wish.”

---

So it isn’t misunderstood, this doesn’t affirm he finds Lovell. Atvana never said that.

And with this oneness comes more than the joy of companionship. With this oneness comes too the heartbreak of mutual despair.

The world seems to be cycling through a period of turmoil, anger, sadness now. For a month or so, everywhere I’ve looked and even within myself trouble has come very strong.

Well, I wish you all well, people of this world. Suffering or not, I wish you well. I wish you love and happiness and above all what is the highest good of all of you, of all things.

And this.

I come to remind you, little one,
On the wings of owl and crow
Whose feathers you carry.

I come to remind you, my child,
That Death is but an illusion,
And the lack of grace a shadow may carry
Is but an illusion as well

For a shadow, my daughter,
What is it but an object cast by the Light?
And though darkness may perfume and pervade it,
Does it not hold the shape of its Lightened Creator?
Does it not move along with our strides?
Does it not dissipate, rather than strengthen, when engulfed by its own kind?

How have you seen Death, shadow, Light?
Have you sat and thought upon them?
Have you met Death and seen the smile in its eyes,
The Love in its heart?
Have you known Death’s true intentions?

And when you see a bird flying,
Are you drawn to the sky with silent knowing,
Or does its shadow bring your revelation of its company?

Shadow and Light are but the Ocean and the Sky,
The colors cast upon the tumultuous by the expanse.
And so as you are Ocean,
May I be your Sky.
At first glance we may be separated,
But our horizon is our merging.

You and I are one,
And as you are of I,
I am for you.

---

Dear Ocean,

I love you beyond words. Thank you for... Existing, really, being such the lovely friend to me that you are. Thank you for your little gifts, and bigger ones, and everything in between. Thank you for our silly and not so silly RPs and conversations.

Thank you for being here. I love you.


P.S.

Reader,

This is only the first of many.