llaray

[llaray]

Mother Ghast managed to escape the Nether with her baby. She felt happy when she realized they were finally safe. She knew it was a new beginning without tears.

[llaray]

Imagine you have two cats. Both have to learn their names when they’re young, which shouldn't be too difficult.

But also imagine that they both share a brain cell and take turns.

And purely hypothetically, imagine that one of the two cats doesn't understand that it has a different name.

Now I have two cats at home who both think they have the same name.

And sometimes when I look at them and one of them is looking into the distance, zoned out, I know there’s not much going on.

[llaray]

Physical Pain

Pain varies.

There’s sharp pain that feels like a stab with a knife, making it feel like you’re getting shot every time you breathe.

There’s dull pain, throbbing or just being there constantly.

There's burning pain, burning its way through the body.

There’s the dull, inflating pain, feeling like a balloon gets inflated inside and bigger by the minute, stretching the skin, making it feel like it’s going to explode.

There’s hot pain, there’s cold pain.

Pain is loud. It screams in your mind and shoves your thoughts away, demanding attention. Demanding help that you can’t always give. You can turn up music, trying to make it louder than the pain.

Pain is exhausting, tiring because it steals the energy.

Pain cries, a loud noise you try to ignore. A noise that makes your heart ache because it’s part of you.

Pain is begging. Pain doesn’t want anything bad. It tries to help.

The absence of pain—the relief—makes you finally being able to rest and breathe.

[llaray]

tw amnesia

Whumpee was starting to heal, to live. They were on a skiing vacation with Caretaker, and Whumpee was happy that they'd found someone they could be themselves with.

There was an accident. Caretaker ended up in a hospital.

Whumpee sat at Caretaker's bedside and quietly pleaded that Caretaker would get better soon. Whumpee wasn’t used to being without Caretaker anymore. Whumpee felt helpless and alone.

Finally, after days, Caretaker woke up for the first time, and Whumpee's relief couldn't be greater. However, it only lasted a short time when Whumpee saw Caretaker's confused look.

Caretaker's amnesia was something Whumpee hadn't expected and absolutely couldn't handle. Caretaker forgot Whumpee, forgot what Whumpee had to go through, couldn’t even remember them a little bit anymore. Caretaker doesn't understand who this person is—so clingy, without leaving Caretaker’s side.

For the first time in a long time, Whumpee feels alone again.

“Who are you?“ Careraker asked, confusion written all over their face.

“It’s me,” Whumpee answered and said their name.

Caretaker repeated the name he didn’t remember.

“Yes,” Whumpee said and began to hope. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell,“ Caretaker said.

This simple sentence took Whumpee‘s hope together with their breath away. Their hands began to shake and they breathed faster. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Caretaker asked but Whumpee stood up abruptly. The chair they had been sitting on fell over and they backed away. They looked into Caretaker’s face one last time to make sure they were serious, before rushing out of the room.

— Caretaker was suffering. Whumpee could see it. After Whumpee had gathered the courage, they were back in Caretaker’s hospital room. Whumpee’s mentor had a headache, their breathing was rapid and Whumpee tried to calm them down. Caretaker had always been the one to calm Whumpee down. Now Whumpee was there to calm Caretaker down. It was confusing for Caretaker to struggle with memory loss and Whumpee tried to help.

But Caretaker didn't let them. As soon as Whumpee reached out a hand to do anything; to hold their hand, to adjust the blanket or pillow—anything to make them more comfortable, Caretaker pulled away. The lack of trust was visible on caretaker‘s face and shattered Whumpee’s heart in millions of pieces.

[llaray]

The man and the child

“If you had the choice, if you could be

whatever you want, whatever you feel,”

the man asked and looked at the child,

admiring its creative and wondering side.

“What would you choose? What would you do?”

he asked, smiled, and the child smiled too.

“Why are you asking me that?”

the child asked instead.

It looked at the man with interest at heart,

the curious eyes, right from the start.

“Oh I’m old my child, and you are so young.

It feels like you didn’t have to do anything but still won,”

the man replied and hid his tears.

He had lived so many years.

The child hesitated but then replied,

always smiling, always polite:

“I’d like to be wise and to be kind,

if you mean my job, I don’t mind.

As long as I’m happy where I am,

as long as I don’t stop what I began,

as long as I’m kind to myself,

it’s better than any wealth.”

The man looked surprised by the child’s response,

he took it in his arms and held on.

He tried to be kind to the younger boy.

He tried to imitate his joy.

Because the boy was none other than his inner child,

free, happy and still curious and wild.

He tried to keep his inner child alive,

because he knew it would make him thrive.

[llaray]

Fear is cold.

The cold that clings to your neck and holds on. Fear is cold and stinging.

Cold is the absence of warmth that envelops and embraces you, kisses you with its gentle embrace.

Fear is cold, biting its way through your fingertips.