hoku-keiki

[hoku-keiki]

A question of the self (627 words)

I believe without a doubt that many people in this world strongly believe that people don’t understand them. My question is, why is that so? Or, that is what I would say if I was asking someone else that question, for I already have a few thoughts on it myself.

The first one is a simple yet likely over-looked answer: humans are not one and the same. No two humans are identical in every aspect, not even identical twins. Through each human’s experience and the perspective they develop from the environment around them creates something unique. I believe it’s something so unique that it truly is difficult, or even impossible, to truly appreciate and understand. Although we can use our ability of empathy to try to understand, there is usually nuance that can be missed. And to some, that would make all the difference between the feeling of being “understood” and not.

Another one would be something I did touch on earlier, which is our environment. Rather than simply the physical properties of the area we live in, it is also shaped by our social, political and economical times. A group of people who grew up and lived in America during the 1970s would have a different perspective and sense of understanding compared to people who grew up and lived in England in the 90s.

Furthermore, there is greater nuance seen in not only the timings in which they lived, but more things such as: class, living location, race, sexuality, religious beliefs and so forth. An example would be the understanding of working-class black people who lived in America during the 70s and the indigenous people of the Americas living in America during the 70s. The frameworks installed by America would have served to oppress, but both groups would have different experiences of oppression. (This is not written to diminish the fact that both groups, along with other ethnic minorities, suffered brutal oppression from the state in virtually every form.)

A final thought would be due to our current lives. Through the advances of technology and the rise of the Internet, alongside with the diminished strength of religion within countries that do not exercise the state’s religion on its populace has contributed to the feeling of not being understood. One could even argue that within countries that actually do so, one can see the effect of this still. I think this is in part due to globalisation, with news from other parts of the worlds, or groups that may have had their voices suppressed. By large, a sense of “national unity” may still exist. However, with people living such diverse lives. I believe that we, the consumer of these thoughts, grow to question our own existence and feelings more-so than we would have done in the past.

This is not to say that existential thinking is a new thing, or that it is solely only now that we as humans have thought on this. However, what I am arguing is that the unique set of circumstances that has lead up to this era of unprecedented, near-global access to information regarding cultures and groups which humans may never have thought could exist has lead to the feeling of the “self” becoming more nuanced; the fact that there is so much choice lends to us not only the feeling of individuality and uniqueness, but perhaps also inferiority. That we cannot be understood simply because we are too unique to fit into categories that already exist, despite how many of those things exist and cater to many different niches.

If my line of thinking does indeed answer the question I set out in the beginning, I believe a better question can now be posited: how do we fix this issue?

[hoku-keiki]

it be like that sometimes (643 words)

In the middle of the day, a young man grew frustrated. Or, at least, that was the best way to describe the feeling. He had no idea where the feeling came from, but he denied himself the opportunity to think about it. Because he knew that if he did think about it, the answer would inevitably show itself to him. But doing that was mentally demanding. He didn't want to have to solve his issues like that. But why? The young man had always deferred to the answer of “it's effort”, convincing probably everyone but himself. While it was true that he had found many different things to be not worth the effort in attempting, things in regards to his mind and mental state were almost certainly always worth the effort. He knew this, but the issue was that the feeling was more than simple frustration.

He had felt the feeling many times before, especially in the past. It was borne of a disease that still plagued him to this day, a disease that plagued many people, old and young, across all ethnicities and creeds throughout the world. He had told himself that comparatively, given how the disease had troubled him in the past, it shouldn't be an issue now. But he constantly underestimated it. Certainly, he knew that it wasn't as it used to be, as in how he felt from day to day. But while some symptoms disappeared, others would take its place. The persistent one that always struck him when he was least guarded was what he liked to call the “brain fuzz”. The “brain fuzz” is as it sounds; it made his mind fuzzy, making it difficult to centre himself and gain control over his thinking. The brain fuzz would disrupt his emotions and encouraged him to act recklessly. While the brain fuzz wasn't as strong as it used to be, the fact remained that it continued to exist inside of him. It was what made him feel frustrated in the first place, most likely; a series of events that caused emotions to rise, compounded by the brain fuzz simply kicked things into overdrive.

Thankfully, with the reduced strength of his disease, and the absence of the symptoms he had previously, he had managed to conjure a mental response plan to the brain fuzz. It started off simple: go for a walk. The walk would be more effective if the temperature was just right: not too warm, but not too chilly, either. The feeling of the wind was soothing, in a way. While in the past he had resorted to music while taking these walks, he found it was more effective for him to listen to nothing. To just take in the surroundings, whether they be noisy or not, it was all largely organic; the result of others living out their short lives on the planet. Once the first step of the plan was complete, the young man could from there reclaim much of his mind. The fuzz would rarely ever completely go after an event, but it would die out slowly, lying in anticipation for the next time it could rear its head.

The young man would always feel concerned after he had reclaimed his mental space, slowly reorganising his mind. Disruptions, whether physical, mental or both, would always set him off track. He knew he needed to work on it, but how was another issue entirely. He felt concerned for others around the world, and how their disease would affect them. Some have had far more unpleasant situations than he had, and he knew he was fortunate to have the right set of circumstances align during his existence that allowed him to get away with just disruption. The long term effects of the disruption remain to be seen, but that was a problem for his Future Self.

[hoku-keiki]

Under Siege (1008 words)

The Lightbringer dispatched the last bloodfiend, swinging his shield against its skull, crushing it. The feral vampire had sustained far too much damage, and slowly died, its last thoughts consumed with bloodlust. The Lightbringer felt no pity for the creature. It had long since lost its mind, and had went on to join its kin in slaughtering the village. He pulled loose the necklace the deceased bloodfiend had around its neck and observed it. This was very much the necklace he was tasked to look for. He most preferably, he would have saved the owner of the necklace, but it was impossible to do that now.

The Lightbringer pocketed the necklace, and looked back towards the ruined tower. He had a bad feeling in his stomach, like he was missing an obvious clue. He surveyed the battlefield once more: soldiers from Rivenspire and the surrounding towns were desperately battling the bloodfiends, but they finally seemed to have been winning. It was a miracle that none of the injured had yet turned into bloodfiends themselves. Although … This gave the Lightbringer cause for concern. The person who was tending to the wounded in the tower was actually wounded themselves. He hurried back to ruined tower, and found many of the wounded still there, but the healer was no-where to be seen. One of the defenders approached the Lightbringer, informing him of the healer's absence and pleaded with him to bring her back, no matter the cost. The particular reason was suspicious, but he had his own reasons for wanting to find the healer, so he headed north of the keep where she was last seen.

Fighting his way through bloodfiends that had wandered from the battlefield, he spotted what he thought to have been the healer. He shoved the bloodfiend backwards, dislodging his axe from his head, and ran over to meet her. However, that uneasy feeling had returned. In the bottom of his mind, he had had his suspicions, but meeting her proved all he needed to know: she had slowly became a vampire herself. He brought out his axe once more, when the newly-born vampire pleaded with him to let her go. She promised to never hurt anyone again, and would try to find an alternative to feeding on humans. The Lightbringer ignored her plea, and summoned upon the Dawnbreaker, Daedric Artifact of the Daedric Prince, Meridia to his hand. Her tears started to flow, which led the Lightbringer to pause. In his position of power, of supreme victory, why was he moving to slay a creature who had pleaded for mercy? Her tears seemed genuine and she had no defence raised against him, no hint of trickery or magic around. He bit his lip and considered what letting her go would mean.

It was at that moment he realised that he had been viewing her as a bloodfiend, as a feral creature who acted only on instinct, rather than a mortal afflicted with Vampirism. But vampires were unnaturally strong, allies of the night and near-immortal. Would it be right, would it be befitting of his title “Lightbringer” to let his creature live? He faltered for a moment, then dispelled the Artifact. It would be wrong to slay a creature that had so desperately pleaded for its life, and that had already done so much good while they were still alive. Just at that moment, a felt a chill down his spine: a Khajiit emerged from the shadows, commending him on his choice not to slay the vampire healer. The vampire healer was confused, her tears fresh on her face as she stared at the two of them. The Lightbringer had met his Khajiit before, but he had failed to notice the signs that she was a vampire. He stayed perfectly still, wary of the Khajiit, but she laughed. If she wanted to kill him, she would have done some a hundred times before she had made her presence known.

Walking past the Lightbringer, she offered her hand to the vampire healer, promising to teach her how to live the way she had said she wanted to live. The Lightbringer felt … embarrassed? Ashamed? Whatever it was, it was painful and humbling. The Khajiit had greater strength than he could ever imagine, and that wasn't because she was a vampire. The vampire healer hesitantly thanked the Lightbringer for believing in her, and apologised once more for deceiving the others. The Lightbringer found this to be awfully humbling, too. Despite everything, she was thanking him, when she literally worked herself to death, only because she knew she would return as a vampire. He believed that even if she wasn't infected, she would have done it anyway. The Lightbringer shook his head and thanked her for her service. He would tell the others that she had died, to bring closure to her name and her deeds. While he may have been ready to see vampires as not inherently bad, it would be quite some time before Tamriel would see the same way.

As the two left, the Lightbringer made his way back to the battleground. The fighting had died down, with the bloodfiends either being slaughtered or controlled by their captors to return elsewhere in Rivenspire. He returned the necklace to the defender that had asked him to retrieve it for him, and watched quietly as he broke down in tears. The path and idea of good and evil not being so easily discerned was a new concept to him. He felt that his title was not one to purge that which was considered dark or impure, but to truth shine light on the truth that was hidden in the darkness. But to be able to do so, one would have to venture into the darkness themselves, to live in it and truly understand what it was like. The experience today would resound forever more inside of the Lightbringer, and continue to influence not only his thinking, but the actions he would take to bring the truth to light.

#eso #rough rendition of the quest anyway

[hoku-keiki]

this is a love story, apparently (595 words)

The two walked down the street, hand in hand. It was a beautiful summer's evening and the boy couldn't be happier. He felt so much peace in his heart, walking with his beloved in public, unafraid to display his affection. The boy felt that he was at peace with the universe. It wasn't an easy path to be where he was in life, but he felt that things had finally started looking up. This was in his heart, at least. In his mind, it was another story entirely.

As the two walked together, the boy knew that all wasn't as well as he believed it to be. It was a feeling rooted deep inside his mind, resonating from his gut. He was acutely that everything wasn't right in their relationship, let alone in the world. He looked at her, giving her a smile. Before she noticed he was looking at her, she did seem to have an empty expression on her face, almost like she wasn't even here. But before long she took note of him, and smiled back at him.

Her smile made him blush a bit. She was just so amazing in so many ways, the boy thought. She was just so beautiful, so smart. She was a very good friend to him even before they had started dating, and he cared deeply for her. That's what made these things harder, though. He felt that he had put her on a pedestal and hadn't truly taken note of her flaws. At the end of the day, just like everyone else, she was only human. And he knew, deep down inside the heart of his that felt such contentment at this moment, their relationship wasn't going to work out. It was a gut feeling once again.

Or maybe it was a logical conclusion? Perhaps he simply chose to consciously disregard all the warning signs in order to dream. To dream and hope that this was the one person he could happily say he would love to spend the rest of his life with. But once again, he failed to view his partner as what she truly was: another flawed, normal, human being. He had expected too much from her as a person, and he knew that in these actions of his, she had probably fallen into the same trap as himself, to some degree. He couldn't be the person he dreamt of being, simply because he was only human. He was just as flawed as anyone else on this planet.

And the boy knew in his heart of hearts that all feelings, all emotions dissipate over time. The question was never “if”, but “when”. When would he admit that he stayed with her, because he was scared to be alone? When would he admit that it was possible he had already fallen out of love with her, but just remained in love with the concept of her? When would he admit that they probably weren't right for each other, after all? When would he admit that things were never as easy as they seemed? When would he admit that staying in such a relationship with such thoughts ravaging his mind were toxic to the very relationship? When would he admit that his insecurities that he pretended not to have, tore him up from the inside?

Not today, at least. The sun was setting and he was in a relationship with a beautiful girl that he loved very much, after all. As long as he believed in love, everything would turn out okay …. right?

#oc #i asked for suggestions as to what to write #and i got a love story #i said sure thing #never said it'll be a nice one

[hoku-keiki]

The Trials and Tribulations of a Healer (632 words)

The young cleric sighed, blowing his hair out of his eyes, only for the hair to partially obscure his vision once more as it succumbed to gravity. His teammates had ran far off into the dungeon, recklessly throwing their bodies at onslaught enemies in hopes of dealing with them quickly. Besides, they had their cleric with them, so any damage could be healed up, right?

Unfortunately for them, they were fighting the baddest, toughest breed of monsters that the dungeon had ever seen, in hopes of better rewards and greater experience from overcoming these obstacles. Failing to factor in how their actions would impact the ability of their Cleric, whom had frequently found himself alone and surrounded by enemies the other two had ignored, was proving to be their folly.

“Oh my god, HEAL ME!!” the Engineer yelled, reluctantly dragging herself back towards the Cleric. “What's taking you so long? Hurry up!” she urged him. The Cleric knocked back the group of enemies surrounding him and called down bolts of lightning to strike his foes. The enemies found themselves smote, moving into the next life as they relinquished any of their belongings. Miscellaneous coins, items of food and even equipment were scattered throughout the dungeon.

The Cleric greedily consumed his Mana Potion, casting it on the ground before casting a restorative spell on the both of them. The Engineer impatiently gathered some items before running off to move into the next part of the dungeon, yelling “Finally! Useless healer! Why does it take you so long to JUST heal me?” as she went further into the dungeon. The Cleric sighed once more, gathering what little of his share of the loot remained, before moving on. He hadn't even taken a few steps before seeing the corpse of his other party member, the Sharpshooter.

The ethereal figure of the Sharpshooter appeared behind him, moaning “Hurry up and revive me, man….” The Cleric pinched his nose, before preparing the resurrection ritual. Death was not a permanent thing in this world, as long as the body was still in a good enough condition, the resurrection took place quickly and the person overseeing the ritual was actually skilled enough to do so, without reanimated the individual as a zombie. It wasn't long before the Sharpshooter was revived once more, and without saying a word, ran off to join the Engineer further in the dungeon.

The Cleric tucked his wand into his belt, before blowing into his bangs once again, half expecting them to not fall into his vision again. But lo and behold, they did. He jogged to catch up with the other two, as they waited at the portal.

“Fucking C3PO, what took you so long?” the Engineer said with a laugh. The Cleric shook his head, and moved with them to the next part of the dungeon. His hair had long been the target of the party's humour, but he couldn't deny that he didn't find that comment funny. With his lack of emotional response, after desperately pleading for his team to wait for him to be able to cast his restorative magicks once again and being met with silence, combined with how uniform he had his hair cut, he too would argue that he was somewhat of an android.

“Alright.” the Cleric said, reading his wand once more for combat. “Just remember that comment that next time you need healing, see who heals you then.”he said with a devilish smile on his face. No matter how annoying his party had gotten, he told himself it was important to fulfil his duties (and he would, contrary to the belief of his team), so he could get stronger. The journey to being a Saint was a long one, but he had to start from somewhere.

#last post was forever ago #whoops. #dragon's nest #more or less what happened every time i played DN with these goons #still good times though

[hoku-keiki]

Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead, Noah’s Tale

Prologue: Avon Heights

The day had started off normally enough, but things had gotten bad. Real bad. And it was weird in a way, because she almost predicted something like this would happen. It was a morbid, intrusive thought, but she had considered the situation anyway. This is Noah's Tale.  

The day started as any other did, but it was the night before that was weird. Noah had stayed up late at night, watching zombie movies and drinking. She had meant to kick the habit, but she was having a good time, so she reasoned it away. She took particular delight in seeing how horrible the majority of them were to her, snickering whenever a jump-scare had occurred. Jump-scares felt so cliché. So overdone. A lot of the movies had lacked the true essence of fear. The things she's seen in her line of work was what she thought to be real horror, the dark things that could keep one up at night. After staying up a bit too late, she closed her laptop and placed it under her bed. Already tucked in and laid back, all that was left now was to get some shut-eye. Crime never waited after all, and there was always more work to have been done. But strangely enough, she couldn't fall asleep. It wasn't because of the movies, she knew that for sure. It was something deeper than that. She started thinking about what “fear” was. What it meant to be truly terrified. She felt that it wasn't uncommon for her to be put into tense or scary situations. But she had not so much experienced situations that had really shaken her to her core, the very fibre of her being. Perhaps grisly crime scenes would have been the worst of it, and even at that, they weren't things that humans were really supposed to see. Not in a civil society, at least.

Fear, she though, was something that made you even doubt yourself. Doubt what you know to be real and not real. What was logical and what was illogical. When confronted with true horror, being in a state of fear is natural. After all, something must have just happened to make you question not only yourself, but your existence. Is this really happening right now? Have I gone crazy? Am I just … seeing things? Fear is so paralysing because modern humans aren't designed to deal with these kinds of stressors on a scale like this. The world ancient humans used to know during the hunter-gatherer days (and arguably the beginning of agricultural days) was largely logical, or reasoned away with religious pantheons. There wasn't so much information and complexity to life that made one's self enter into such a state of doubt and mistrust. The thoughts had sobered her up by now, and Noah rolled onto her side, sighing. As a police officer, she knew these things well. She closed her eyes and tried to dismiss the thoughts. Maybe she shouldn't have drank earlier. Despite enjoying her liquor, she wasn't very good at holding it.

As she got to sleep, she began to dream. It was a lucid dream right off the bat, and she was seeing it from her own point of view, although “she” wasn't actually taking part in it. If she wasn't aware it was a dream, she could have assumed it was like any other work day, but different in the sense that on her way in, there was reports of violence within the department. Upon arriving, there was a fair amount of melee occurring in a large holding cell amongst the detained, while officers were bleeding profusely, others lay motionless on the floor. Suddenly, there was a lot more carnage. Painful screams coming from the holding cell, with copious amounts of blood and desperate pleas for assistance inside the cells as moans started to pierce through the noise. The officers whom were on the floor started to rise up once more, attacking those near them. Noah began to panic. She was stunned, while she knew that this was only a dream, it felt uncannily real. She fled the scene, bursting outside of the department's front door. All she knew was that she had to get away fast, and begin to make sense of it all. Only to be greeted by a myriad of zombies. Things that she couldn't have imagined. Things that seemed straight out of the best and worst movies she's ever seen. Some looked like biblical depictions of angels, and she didn't know know how she knew that. She wasn't particularly religious, after all. The sight had overwhelmed her. Just as she resigned herself to her fate …. Her alarm rang.

She sat up, and rubbed her face. “What a weird dream.” she thought to herself. Could it have been the drink that made her dream so weird? She ran her hand across her face and sighed. Maybe she really shouldn't have drank. She sat up, and checked her alarm. It was almost 6 in the morning, and her alarm had rung as per usual. She enjoyed the mornings, and waking up early in particular. She felt it always gave herself more time to do things and prepare for the day. As she headed to the bathroom to freshen herself up and get prepared for the day, she found it hard to stop thinking about the dream. Lurching into her thoughts, the faces, the screams, the zombies all appeared in her mind's eye vividly. It was unsettling, to say the least. Her reaction in the dream wasn't anything akin to how she believed herself to be in real life. That's what she took most offence at. In her eyes, she was a staunch protector of the weak, of those who couldn't protect themselves. It was one of the core reasons as to why she wanted to be a police officer in the first place. She took pride in her skills, and a skilled officer she was indeed.

Getting dressed, she checked herself in the mirror one last time before heading out. It was a reassuring thing that she did: she could remind herself that was in control of herself, her actions. It reminded her that she would stand for the ideals that she believed in. No dream would make her doubt herself. She was herself, and she knew how things were in this world. After all, zombies were the realm of fiction, and she'd be damned if after mocking such a thing for so long, she would actually grow scared of it. She smiled a bit at the last thought, before leaving her place, and getting into her car.

The phone had rung just before she started driving At a glance, she could tell it was from the department. It wasn't unusual for calls like this to happen in the morning. As much as she hated to say it, it felt like a lot of the work that got done was thanks to her tireless efforts and diligence. While she felt like she worked with great people, she wished they were a bit more reliable sometimes. She answered the phone and set it to loudspeaker.

“Deputy Hedges speaking.” Noah said as she fastened her seatbelt.

“Deputy Hedges?” an officer on the phone replied. She couldn't put a name or face to the voice, but it was a familiar one to her. “Oh, I-I'm sorry Deputy, good morning. I just thought I should let you know your partner was actually attacked earlier this morning while, and … it's looking kind of bad, if you don't mind me saying.” he said.

Noah was silent. The fear started to settle in, but she cleared her thoughts and managed to dismiss it.

“… I'm sorry.” the officer said once again. “Perhaps it would have been best to brief you once you got in.”

“Oh, no … It's okay. I was actually on my way over.” she said confidently. A coincidence like that wasn't going to get the best of her. “Thank you for letting me know, officer. I appreciate it. I'll be there shortly.”

The officer, relieved to hear she sounded okay with the news, thanked her once more and hung up. She sat back against her chair and exhaled. “Better go and find out what was so bad.” she thought, as she headed to the police department.

As she parked in her place, things still seemed fine to her. Apart from the earlier coincidence, nothing seemed off, at least from outside. She gathered what little belongings she had, and entered the precinct, when her dream seemed to come dramatically real. It was almost as if she was dreaming once again. The shouting in the holding cells, the officers needing medical assistance, and her partner, lying on the ground. He seemed to have had been shot. She recoiled, and took a few steps back. The officer that had called her earlier and noticed her, and hurried over to her. He was a young male, a new police officer that had joined the force not too long ago. Seeing his face made her remember that it was obvious the young man had a crush on her. He was always so eager to help her out, and more than a few times he had caught him staring at her. But she had let it go, not because of compassion or any real feelings for him, but just due to how busy she was doing her job amongst picking up other's slack, like he SHOULD have been doing.

The young officer began to explain. “Deputy Hedges, it-it-it just happened so fast! After I called hung up, I noticed that someone was tending to …” The officer gestured towards her partner that lay still on the floor, blood pooling around his torso. “And then the next second, he was up, just … attacking people. We had to put him down, but it took a lot more than just one bullet, as you can see.” His voice trailed off near the end. The yelling from the large holding cell intensified, as detainees started actively scrambling closer to the door, asking for help. The young officer went off to see what happened, while Noah heard some shifting. Turning her attention back to her deceased partner, she noticed he had started moving, slowly clambering to his feet. The feeling of fear had really set in now. She made for her gun, but she was paralysed with fear, through and through. Her partner had now made it to his feet, shambling towards her. The other officers had noticed him rise again, and some began to flee, heading for the doors, while others made for their guns. The young officer yelled for assistance, opening the holding cell to let the people inside free, as a detainee was currently chewing on another's face. He took aim with his gun emptied his clip into the detainee.

The gunshots was enough to bring her back to her senses. She eyed the door, but had a flashback to her dream: going outside that door was most likely instant death. It was hard to gather her thoughts: she was resisting her base impulse to flee, the gunshots made her ears ring, the dead were rising-- it was far too disorientating. It was hard to consolidate the thoughts that existed in the present versus the ones that were in her dreams. She felt like she was going crazy. As the main doors burst open, people quickly fled from the building. But their relief was only temporary: the situation outside was worse than it was inside. Noah grimaced as she could see the scenario in her mind, just as she did in her dream. As the situation outside grew louder, it drew more people outside of the police station, both in an attempt to flee and maintain some sort of order. Noah, however, stumbled towards deeper into the building, and shut herself inside one of the smaller holding cells She moved into the corner of the room and slid to the floor, still in shock. She was shaken to her very core.

So much for my ideals, right? I just … ran. I couldn't handle it. I couldn't save anyone. She fumbled for her gun, and briefly contemplated ending it all. This world had no longer made any sense. She barely had any time to put together the events of what occurred not more than fifteen minutes again. She dropped her gun, and tried to control her breathing and her thoughts.  This isn't right. Nothing is right, but I know going through with this definitely isn't right. Calm down, Noah … Fear is the mind-killer. Just take it slowly… we can do this. Just another day on the job, right? She managed to make herself chuckle a bit. She knew a saying about humour and medicine, but she could barely think as it was, let alone remember it. Collecting her thoughts, she figured that if the world had gone crazy … if it had truly ended, that means she was needed now, more than ever. And with that thought in mind, she picked up her gun once more, and holstered it. Rising to her feet, she took deep breathes once more. The only thing worse than failing, was failing and not learning your lesson from your failure. Not trying again to live to your ideals. And it would be only then, that she'd be unable to save anyone. She was determined not to be the victim to this world. She was going to help those she could, and she was going to survive. You can bet on that.

#fanfiction #cdda #rycon roleplays #noah's tale

[hoku-keiki]

Vignette: Panacea for the soul

Sitting on a hill, during a warm summer day, with trees scattered all about. The sudden breeze makes the leaves flutter every now and again. The city seems far off, almost out of a movie. Quite the picturesque scene. It's a beautiful day. Life is … actually okay. But slowly, the happiness starts to falter. My thoughts about the future and the happiness starts to get replaced with melancholy. As the breeze intensifies, the leaves flutter violently. The pull of the darkness I had once abandoned seemed to threaten to consume me once again. Or did it? Had I grown paranoid of my own thoughts? How could these feelings of peace lull me to such fear?

Is it even worth thinking of? Life continues nonetheless. This picturesque scene shall remain, with or without me. It's a sobering thought. It's hard to remind myself not to fall into the darkness. As long as I live, no matter what I do, it will always remain. But I think that's okay. Because life isn't worth living without that darkness, the fear it's nested into my mind. The reminder that there's always more to everything in life. More to every thought, feeling, interaction and breath you take. It might seem like nonsensical. Certainly others have it worse than me. But I'm not others. I'm me. The me that exists is entirely a unique one that no-one else could know, hope or even dream to know. But that concept of me also exists in others. Those thoughts of me that I could never know, hope or dream to know.

But that's okay. Despite it all, life is very beautiful. A sacred thing, even. I'm a very lucky person, despite my experiences. Some people don't make it out of that darkness, can't make it out of that darkness, no matter how much they wish to escape it. Trapped, a prisoner of their own sentience. My fears of that darkness come not from being in it, but the very real possibility that I might not be able to escape it. The human will, the spirit to survive, can always be quenched at any time. And there's no stronger force in the universe to do that but a person's own mind. Nonetheless, life will go on. Wind will still bring pleasure to the ears as it makes the leaves flutter on a beautiful summer day. But that same wind can also bring a cataclysmic end to the very beings it once comforted.

I think, and believe, that life isn't fair. Not by its own not-caring, but by its own lack of sentience. Life would have no concept of values, whether human values or any other organism living in this universe. That's why life is so hard. It's the cruelty or compassion of others that can be the driving decision in one's life, for better or for worse. But I also believe that life, that the universe will always balance itself out. Reaching maximum entropy is the end goal of our universe, so our lives might possibly reach that state at the end of the day. But until then, life will prove itself beautiful yet hard. Heart-warming but full of pain. These feelings make the heart ache with the realisation that all, deserving or not, will likely enter that darkness. All I can do is pray to whatever celestial being that might exist for good fortune. And I pray that you make it out alright. Life is a light too beautiful, too full of experiences to go out before its wick expires. Do not go gentle into that good night, rage against the dying of the light.

#hyper light drifter #is a beautiful game #cw depression #i recommend you play the game #or at least listen to the soundtrack #i have something of an idea as to what prompted it but ... that's fine #but live for any reason you can

[hoku-keiki]

WP: There is a total of 5 Billion human souls, which means something else is in the rest of them.

Inside of a pristine white, air-conditioned room, adorned with various scientific instruments, sheets of research papers slightly askew on several tables, sat a young scientist in front of a computer screen, near the corner of the room. The young scientist was pouring over the findings of various papers in front of them, while occasionally glancing at the computer screen in front of them. The findings on the paper were incredulous, to say the least, but that wasn’t the thing that was worrying them the most.

The scientist sighed gently once they had read their fill of the papers that lay in from of them and placed them to the side. They would have to share this information with their superiors first thing in the morning, of course. This was too big to sit on, though. They were, all of a sudden, quiet concerned with what the findings meant for society at large. On the computer screen, within a secure online chatroom, the scientist’s fellow researchers had all logged on to hear the news that the young scientist had just relayed to them. There was a general sense of uneasy that the young scientist could just feel in their gut that their fellow researchers had came across. They took off their glasses and rubbed their eyes, before putting the glasses back on and taking a sip of water from a bottle that was besides the computer, health and safety be damned. It was just past midnight, and it was likely they weren’t going to go home tonight, anyway. After all, the sense of unease that they came across arrived after they had decided to stayed late to compile the findings of the results the group had spent the last 5 years researching.

They turned their attention back towards the screen and noticed there was a lot of unread messages in the chat. They had been silent within ever since relaying the report inside the chatroom, only occasionally glancing at the screen while they double, triple and quadruple-checked the report. Once they read through the chatroom, they could tell their gut feeling was right; a fair amount of the researchers who had logged in were concerned as to what the report could suggest about the future of humanity. Very few had expressed only mild interest, arguing that not much would change within society, even with their findings. One was worried that their superiors would relay it to their superiors and the research would never see the light of day, that all the researchers that participated would be forced to “disappear” in order to make it look like the report never existed at all. The chatroom had gone silent after that. Had they really resorted to belief in conspiracy theories, or had the long day and gravity of their findings taken its toll on them? Perhaps both.

All, however, were too scared to admit what had really troubled them. What did that mean for the roughly 2 billion humans that lacked human souls? Did they operate as some sort of hive-mind, perhaps? In particular, is it possible that some of them lacked a human soul? That their loved ones lacked a human soul? And what about those in government? Could they have funded the research to test to the extent in which humans had progressed as a race? What that meant for their futures were unclear. Perhaps the research was flawed, even. Our world has always operated on logic, after all. But the young researcher had their doubts. Our world’s logic seemed to constantly be broken and redefined as a result of scientific, engineering and cultural advances throughout our shared history over the last couple of thousands of years. The young scientist yawned and laid their head on the side of the computer desk. The chatroom had remained dead silent as the other researchers, likely in the midst of their thoughts, logged off for the night to head to bed. Perhaps they were kidnapped and taken to a secret facility or buried alive in the middle of nowhere. The young scientist chuckled at the morbid thought.

All of a sudden, it became hard to keep their eyes open. They briefly thought about going back home, but all that waited for them was more isolation. There was no-one at home waiting for them. They had dedicated themselves so much so to their research that they ended up straining their personal relationships. Might as well sleep here for tonight, the young scientist thought. Given the fact that they had just finished research spanning half a decade, they figured they’d be let off for staying all night one more time. The young scientist removed their glasses and closed their eyes, thousands of thoughts running through their head. Before they fell asleep, one last thought seemed to weed itself into their mind repeatedly in a whimsical nature.

What does it mean to be human, anyway?

[hoku-keiki]

some thoughts (24/2/17)

With the start of 2017, the start of the Trump Presidency, alongside the development of Brexit, I've been thinking a lot more about political ideologies and how we should address them. In general, I do think there is great importance in having open dialogue. When an individual doesn't share your opinion, or fails to be able to appreciate your perspective on an issue, it only makes sense to engage the other in dialogue in order to understand where they're coming from and critically assessing their problems. This should sound obvious to most, but there are some exceptions to this. Ideologies that are rooted within, or adhere to the belief that a group of individuals within a race, sexuality, gender and/or creed must be exterminated or otherwise subjected to a deprived or lowered standard of living (compared to the rest of that society) for whatever reason… I believe cannot be reasoned with. Examples of this exist in history within fascism, with the most famous example being the rise of the Nazi Party, World War II and the Holocaust, which claimed the lives of between 6 million to 11 million people. Even when the ideology is not as overtly extreme as this, more examples can be seen in the American Civil Rights movement. While peaceful demonstrations were conducted, they were often met with violent response from the state (“confrontations between nonviolent protesters, including schoolchildren, on the one hand, and police with clubs, fire hoses, and police dogs, on the other” -History.com Staff, 2009; First March from Selma, 1995) and others opposed to the idea (the Murder of Reverend James Reeb).

While it can be noted that non-violent protest has its place in protest, I think that violent protests also have a legitimate place in driving change. I think that a lot of people dislike violence. It's definitely an obvious thing to state, but it's true in almost every case. I say this because many moderates, for example, understand the reasons behind a (typically minority) group violently protesting, but yet could never “condone” it. To disturb a person's life that they are likely content or well-adjusted to living, while probably not a major discomfort, is enough to invite discomfort anyway and maybe induce a knee-jerk reaction against the issue that caused that arose in the first place. I think that the fact that a group of people, who have tried peaceful demonstrations, are angry enough to engage in civil disobedience and violently protest may be worth listening to. Unless you believe in eugenics, it's likely that you'd realise that a rational human being would not purposely create disorder unless it was to achieve a specific purpose.

I also watched an interesting video on by School of Life entitled “Machiavelli’s Advice For Nice Guys”. I figure it's worth sharing if you're interested further along these lines. I've put it below.

Links:

History.com Staff, (2009) “Civil Rights Movement”, online http://www.history.com/topics/black-history/civil-rights-movement accessed 24/02/17

School of Life, (2017) “ Machiavelli’s Advice For Nice Guys” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTQlnmWCPgA