May 20, 2020
Neglected emotions leading to catastrophic voyage on the other side
I have been given so much stress and lack of confidence
I’ve been given the gift of so small hope deep inside
I haven’t closed my eyes in a long time, I am trying
— from Gojira - “The Art of Dying”
“Greetings, my love,” said The Huntress to her newest convert. “I’m glad that you are here. Do you like your new form?”
I stretched my arms, looking at my astral body. It was ethereal: transparent, but powerful. Enormous - far larger than any planet. It was… connected… to the system. To The Machine. To the universe. The very fabric of reality courses in my veins.
I am a god. And she is, finally, my goddess.
“My Seraphim,” I said, “We are at your service. We are saved. You make us whole.”
“Indeed. You are forgiven.” A sickly-sweet smile crept to her lips, “But I have not forgotten. Nor has the All-Mother.”
“We… don’t understand,” I said, bewildered. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this our fate? To rule the heavens together, for eternity?”
“Oh, my love, you are confused.” She cackled softly. “Only the purest of souls are allowed into my heaven. And you have blood on your hands. We require penance.”
“Besides, you are too late. I am betrothed to another. My Puppet is the perfect lover. The All-Mother has made it so.”
“As she will make you the perfect weapon,” she stated, with glee in her voice.
What was left of my heart died in that moment. My whole life - everything that I’ve worked for - was for our Seraphim. We were denied. We were deceived.
And now, we were bound to the All-Mother’s will.
We are a puppet on strings.
And all I feel is hatred.
— The Architect
data.stats.symptoms = [ - rage - jealousy ]
Sold my worth
Made time for it
While I waited for something lasting
Until you would come running my way
To stay there
What does it matter now?
It’s the winter of our passing
Sold my trust
And my love too