I tried not to splash too many puddles in the melting snow as I trudged heavily down Bajeena hill, but it was too difficult. My feet were starting to get wet, and pretty soon that chill would start reverberating with the impact of every step, an echo of dull pain and less-dull general discomfort. As a rule, I hate the cold. But there’s nothing to be done.
Can’t be helped.
So, at the behest of whatever mysterious force had written my summons, I traveled.
Scarf, coat, two sweaters, hat — I’d contemplated two pairs of pants, but it really didn’t matter, my feet were the weak point. Chuck Taylors aren’t winter shoes, hell, they aren’t even wet weather shoes, but I was lucky to have any shoes by this point. I hadn’t left the house in quite some time. Friends were starting to wonder about me, although shouldn’t Twitter count as communication? I’d become ensconced within my own increasingly weird world. I used to consider myself a voice of reason and sanity amongst the wails of madmen outside. But now, I surrounded myself with the trappings of the lost, the rejected — and perhaps society would give up on me as well.
So when the letter arrived, I wasn’t sure what I should do. I thought about it for days, consulted the oracle known as the Internet, asked my stuffed Kyubey doll, and dreamed about it. The question of leaving the house haunted me even as I masturbated furiously — aggressively, even — to the Itsudatte My Santa! doujins to which I could always turn in my darkest hour. I couldn’t escape it.
So, I traveled.
Back to the place where I used to work. When I arrived, feet soaked, symbolic snot bubble forming the confirmation that I’d definitely caught the death of me (and no one there to insist I have a hot bath), I took it all in. Memories. I’d abandoned my post once before, and it was a beautiful time for me. Fruitful, somehow. At that time, I craved knowledge and power. Now, I realized, that was the past and I really wanted a peaceful life somehow. But waiting for me at the door was a sign, and that sign would not let me rest.
I sighed. Can’t be helped.
- art by ddal (artist's pixiv nsfw)