Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

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shaped by the distance between us

The house has finally settled down for a change, hopefully for the year. All rooms are occupied, everyone seems chill, even fun; though it's been a strange process, to watch and live inside this place that changes moods and inhabitants with such regular irregularity.

Everyone I talk to has been telling me they're in a transition period, this year. But everything is always changing, or so it always seems to me. Like the earth, which seems so solid beneath our feet, yet is moving at a difficult-to-calculate speed, dancing in circles in the void, falling at a breakneck pace through infinity.

Agoraphobia is the fear of open spaces, isn't it? I think I have a sort of temporal agoraphobia. I sometimes feel like every place and every person is constantly falling farther and farther into the past, away from me... and that those to come in the future, will only orbit by me for such a short time, and fall away even faster. That somehow, impossibly, the space between me and everything, future and past, is always increasing. Maybe because I feel like I'm always going in the wrong direction, one particular yet nameless direction that no one else ever goes in, but that I HAVE to go in. Away. Is that paranoid, or just arrogant?

In a universe where everything is always falling apart for much longer than it comes together, we can only measure our speed by stopping a moment, to see where everything else is going, relative to us. In my world, if I can remember that despite falling through an infinite abyss, we're all falling at a comparable speed and I'm not doing so bad... RELATIVELY... then everything clears up a bit, and I can leave my head and focus my energy outwards. And when I do that, magick, I make more people smile, and a good smile can kill any distance. Whether I sleep in a car or in a house, whether I'm employed or broke and living hand-to-mouth, whether I feel transitional or I feel stable... it's more to do with my mood; my speed compared to your speed, and the distance between us. My perspective.

but perspective dies in infinity, and that mood is always so fucking fragile


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