Any last words?

...
It's Cancer.
It's terminal. Even if it wasn't, the kidneys would do the job by themselves.
How many days, how many weeks... Or maybe... Months?

I do not want to know how long I have left until I have to say goodbye.
Until I lose the one thing that actually meant something.
I just wanted to celebrate another birthday as a whole. Was it too much to ask? I don't /care/ about graduation, I want a birthday.
I don't want to lose 99% of my childhood memories, and I'm sick of crying myself to sleep already.

But, they've been wrong so many times now.
First, the many issues with diabetes.
The times with the heart issues, the everything issues.
Then widowmaker and certain heart attack death. Inevitability. False.
Then losing a leg. False. Only toes. Only toes. Only ever toes and it seemed FINE.
Then recovery and unrecovery and recovery again.
And now. Cancer. Or kidney failure. Or both. Simultaneously.
It had better be false again.

How many death sentences do we have to recieve? How many times does this have to happen?
I don't know. I don't care. I'm sick of going through this too many times and at the same time I want to have to go through it again so it doesn't have to be /now/.

I can't sleep. I can't. It's too hard to fall asleep in bed.
At most, all I can hope for is short bursts of torturously unrestful sleep and drifting off wherever I find myself. The car is fine. The park bench is fine. The sidewalk is absolutely fine. The desk is great, a chair is fabulous, at a table? Great.
It's just too much right now. The best I can do is try to fast forward as much as I can so it can be false again. Because it has to be. It can't not be.

Because it it isn't another false alarm, I wouldn't know what to do. I wouldn't know how to function.
I don't want to know what would happen.

Best way to spend a night?

Watch your favorite show. In English this time.
And cry. A lot. Because it hurts.
A lot.

I have to get up in just over an hour. Do I try for a nap or do I deal with it all the way through~?
The show is getting to the better parts. It's worth it. It's a lot more heartfelt when I can hear words I actually understand. Plus, the soundtrack is amazing.

I guess... Since I won't really have any other time to watch with this fast of internet speeds, I can take a nap after school or during second period.
Oh, how foolish it is to choose not to sleep, but if I do, I'll only be more tired than I was before...
But, stupid decisions are the epitome of teenage life, and I've only got a few weeks of it left... Technically, it ended six months ago.
But I don't think I'll let that affect anything.

Roll in the Fog, and Erase

Is it being tired that's got your tongue in shambles?

Is it the itch to stop and turn around?

Is it the familiarity of everything that stains your sight red?

Maybe you just want to start over. 

Maybe, you've grown weary of all of this, the same scenery, the same faces, maybe you want to wipe it all away and start again somewhere new, somewhere different. 

Maybe you want to forget again and go back to wondering what actually happened.

Maybe you want sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen to be just numbers again like all the others are. 

Maybe, compared to everything else, it seems so simple. So easy. So true. So /you./

You sit in a cave, the echoes of droplets on cold floors all around you a symphony that you cannot drown out. 

You sit on a beach, the sand warm but harsh, the broken seashells in your hand clinking together like stardust chimes. 

You sit in the river, water rushing over your head but you don't need to breathe. You never have. 

You sit silent and wonder what would it be like, to go back to the simplest?

To live to eat, to eat to live, as survival of the fittest or the smartest. 

No, it would be too much. To go back that far would be to lose everything you don't want to forget. 

And yet, it's all so alluring. 

Perhaps, all you need is a simple restart. 

A way to wipe clean the slates and forget all of this. 

A way to blow away the exhaustion that ghosts your shoulders like the midnight fog that rolls in from the ocean.  

A way to erase it all, and start again someplace new. 

Doesn't it sound nice?

Another restart? Another hard wipe? Another layer of amnesia?

You certainly think it does. 

But you aren't the only one out there and forgetting isn't so easy when other hands reach for you. 

Here's your dessert

ive exhumed the blog
It's got a tombstone and everything
But I guess the corpse can walk for a little bit longer.

Welcome to the Easter nightlight hunt afterparty.

I just want to share this nonsense with you

You may have to turn the blog music off - I don't know if I have it set to auto play or not *shrugs*

That is all.

Azariel's Ambition

(please forgive I am sick and tired.)

"I've been doing this for more than 40 years now, you're going to have to do better than that, Azariel."
Her voice chided him, the thump of her spear touching the ground again loud in his ears.
His teeth ground together, his breath rushing out in a plume of clouds, his fingers digging into the frosted earth before he rose again, hand moving to cover a wound, then dropping to reveal it as gone.

If anything, he wasn't going to lose. No. Not now.
He'd spent too long training with her and working so hard to lose now.

He was the son of the protector of this forest.
He was the son of a line of Demigods that ran up to the gods Tempestas and Asclepius as his Great Grandparents.
Even if he was young, he couldn't just let himself be weak.
He was going to be stronger, and he was going to get it by his own power.

Readying himself, he stepped forwards, ripping his sword from the earth, its blade humming with electric energy at his touch.
/Our power. This is our power./
Taking his stance, he waited until she did the same, then charged.
This time, he was merciless, defending only what needed to be defended, letting the blade of her spear slice his skin time and time again, the cuts melting away just as soon as she gave them.
Forward, forward, further and further he pushed her back, the thought of victory spurring his movements, the pain of her blows nothing to him.

His sword crackled as he swung time and time again, meeting the staff with incredible force each time she blocked, and gaining power and speed each time he missed, whirring through the open air before circling around once again to deliver another blow against the unyielding wood of her spear.
With each breath came further energy, their duel gaining momentum, his scales humming with the same energy that surrounded his sword, each collision explosive, until finally, /finally/ he got somewhere.
His sword came down and the staff of her spear came up, and this time when they met, not only did sparks fly and energy crackle, but his sword prevailed.
Wood split, splinters falling and his sword continuing down as she leapt backwards, out of the way of what would certainly be a damaging blow.
Drawing his sword back, he didn't hear her praise, he only saw his chance.
Rocketing forward, the wind parted for him, his sword moving almost with its own will, straight for her chest.

But no.
His victory was snatched from him, a foot colliding with his blade, sending it to the ground and out of his hand.
Knocking it away.

Tall, powerful, shining and golden.
Their eyes met, and Azariel's burned before he broke contact, turning and running, unhearing and alone.
Snatching up his sword and heading for the place only he knew.


It was hidden, dark and lonely, but it was his.
A small crevice in the earth leading to an underground pool, with glowing crystalline structures and an old shrine in the center, eroded and unrecognizable.
His own place.

His breathing was the first thing he became aware of, ragged, broken huffs of air, and then his hands found his eyes wet, and his head spinning.
Azariel stood still for a moment, shocked.
Him, crying?
Looking down at his sword, he found it subdued, losing its built up power so quickly.

He collapsed, kneeling in the water and trying so hard to calm down, clutching his shirt and waiting until he could breathe again.
Alone at last.
He'd won, right?
He beat her.
So why did... Why did everything hurt..?

Lifting his sword again, he held it out in front of him, gaze roving across the blade's surface, the crystal in the hilt, the way it seemed alive.
The way his eyes staring back at him in the reflection didn't actually belong to him.

"We're better. We're getting stronger, right?"
His voice was hoarse, and it echoed softly before everything fell silent again.
Pulling it close to his chest, he closed his eyes and sighed.
"Of course we are. How could I think otherwise? We won, after all."
He felt the warmth and the energy surge once again from the blade, and smiled, sitting up. Standing up.
"There you are."

Holding it out at arms length again, his fingers traced the edge of his sword, its gleaming surface humming once again.
"We're going to be the strongest in the world, you and I. Mom didn't feel you, and neither did Grandma, but I do. And that's why we're friends, isn't it?"

He turned the blade, placing the tip into the sheath at his hip and then sliding it in, not letting go of the hilt, and turning towards the pathway up to the world outside.
"We're friends because you know I can be strong, and I'm not going to disappoint you. We're partners. We're going to do this, together."

Midnight Introspection

This is what happens when I can't close my eyes. 
When my thoughts decide they know better than my mind and my infinite need for rest. 

You begin to... Notice things. 
Especially the things that have gone horribly wrong. 

There's something strange about being officially a part of something and having everything change. 

Before, I was a hitchhiker. A speck on the wall dreaming to join and simply doing what I could from the sidelines. 
And I loved it. 
It was the highlight of my day, and nothing could go wrong as long as it was there, me and my endless supply of pens and paints and whatnot...
I was there because I wanted to be. 
My name wasn't anywhere on the list. 
I had no member card. 
I wrote and I drew because I could and it was enjoyable. I wanted to be a part of all of it. 
All of this. 

But now I'm here. 
I made it. 
So why don't I want any of it anymore? 
Why is it so...
Hard to enjoy anything like I did?
These words don't listen to me anymore. I can type and I can type and I can type but none of them are mine. 
None of them will listen. 

I can't sleep because I can't write and I can't write because I can't... /See/ like I used to. 
Something is gone. 
I'm missing something here. 
I hold the member's card in my hand, the season pass, the keyswipe to be here.
But
It's empty. 
So hollow. 

Was I chasing smoke?
Was it all just a lie?
Was any of it even real?
Or is it all just another delusion.
Another fake reality. 
One more flower I didn't realize was a monster. 
And now, I have no one to blame but myself for making it so painful to hold a pen again, for letting the vines grow and grow thorns while they were at it underneath the budding flowers, for letting everything 
- Everything -
become just another meaningless checkmark on the list. 

Soldier

That siren has been going off for a while now...
Red. Loud. It screams,

Something is Coming.                                    

When are you going to wake up?
Your room is the brightest of oranges and yet your eyes are still glazed over.
When will you WAKE UP?

Come now, the fog is getting thicker, and thicker, and darker.

Blackened ceilings crumbling,

Ground beneath you rumbling,

Sky above you burning,

Just how long will you take to wake up?
Listen, you don't have the time to lie there.
You don't have the time to wait.
Soon enough, if you don't move, this room will be your grave.
Soon enough, that siren will be silenced
...and you may be too.

Wake up, Wake up.
Smoke is slowly descending upon you, and here you lie, still asleep.
Wake up.
You need to wake up.
...Please, wake up...

Wake up, its time to Breathe
Wake up, it's time to Dream,
Wake up, its time to Leave.

I'm tired of going Home

I'm tired of going home.

Back to tired and exasperated "Yes mother"s and "okay"s. 

Back to anger, back to fear, back to pain and paranoia. 

Back to "You're so stupid", "You're clueless", "Why are you so rude?", "You're lazy and a pig and it's a wonder you have any friends." Back to doubt. 

Back to worthlessness, because I can't manage the same ease and grace in pulling good grades as I did in elementary school, when everything was based on whether or not you did the assignment, not how well you did. 

Back to being nothing more than a trophy in a glass case, silver and tarnishing, slowly, slowly. 

"..." - In which reality ceases to make sense, and time refuses to exist, at least coherently.

I have a need for answers.