Woe Is The Consequences of My Actions

Salutations,

As I sit in my desolate room, with no lights, no music--just anger; I contemplate and ruminate on how immensely foolish I am as a human being. The faculties of the mind are terribly interesting, you see. And in the many moments of my ephemeral youth, one must realize that I cannot just simply stop being silly, stupid, unique, funny, 𝓌𝒶𝒽𝑜𝑜. I am just coded to be batsh!t stupid ★

So, to give context, let me rewind back a little. A few months ago, I had the lovely honor to be part of a visual novel project as one of the writers. It was a major success and we reached thousands of downloads, people streamed the game, and it was just generally well-received. Now, riding on that high, I decided to keep up my productivity by joining projects where I can contribute as a writer. And so I found a project, quickly auditioned, and then waited like a sitting duck until the moderator reached out. Miraculously, I got in after weeks of waiting. I must have forgotten at some point though since I was already so busy with school due dates and what-not. I quickly made plans to write as soon as I can, but as I mentioned before--school due dates.

This is why I've been trying to finish my work a few weeks in advance, and this is why I've been drinking from the two-liter bottles of water so I wouldn't have to end up drinking copious, unhealthy amounts of coffee because of the workload. Who knew that the consequences of my actions would simply be in the form of myself wring past!Me by the neck? Funny. :]

Anyways, yeah. Have been writing for the fanzine project. I hope I can finish it before the week is up. Here's a small snippet...

as the fool gazes upon moonshine and starlight

    While its surface did not betray the shadows of the abyss, the dark tide lapped against the shore. There, he marked with his bright eyes, starlight that had long settled in the bubbles and ocean foam, its glinting waters singing to broken seastone. Casting his eyes to the silver threads of clouds, he breathed a distant melody into the air. (‘There’s a tale, a legend told…’)

    Embracing the sky with heartfelt sorrow, as if he were only a mere floating miracle, the ether nearly seemed to tremble. The first breath of midnight wind had cursed him with love and ever since then, every tip and strand of his existence has been for the sky and its light; singing to every dawn-encrusted horizon like a siren, he soon became the fool of the lilac tides. No matter how soft the ocean’s caress and cradle, his arms only reached further into the bottomless sky...