People always tell you that you’ll adjust to life here. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll find a place where you fit in, and it'll give birth to your new life.” What they don’t tell you is that feeling of heavy, freezing anguish never goes away. You just learn to deal with it.
Info
Written and conceptualized by ReyDay
Critics/Reviewers:
scutoid studios
SnomWriting
Magnileak
Wynths
Red-eyes Dragoon
| Page Type | Articles |
|---|---|
| Author Page | ReyDay |
| Levels | Level 988 - “Belphegor’s Nightmare” |
| Unnumbered Levels | Death’s Door, Agoraphobia, The Celestial Cathedral(translated) |
| Sub-Layers | Level 800.1 |
| Entities | Coming Soon! |
| Unnumbered Entities | Coming Soon! |
| Objects | Object 48 - “Liquid Pain”, Object 33 - “RoboPets”, Object 64 - "Whisperers", Object 5-FR - “Anemophosis”(translated) |
| Phenomena | Phenomenon 28 - “Mourning Nothing In Particular” |
| Tales | The Echo of Creation, Five Years Since You Went Missing, Knight’s Gambit, INFINITY, For Christmas(translated) |
| Groups | Ariane Circle(translated), The Black Knights(owned) |
| POIs | Nyx(translated) |
| Canons | Black Knights(owned) |
| Joke Pages | Coming Soon! |
| Tech | Enchanted Forest Theme, Music Theme, Deep Sea Theme, Tesseract Theme, Ariane Circle Theme(translated) |
| Guides/Essays | Coming Soon! |
| Art | Diana Evelynn, Fia, Tess Welcome Banner |
{$title}Languages:
Every day, I find myself weeping in the corner of my bedroom.
Always at the same time, wrapped up in the same knitted blanket with mismatched yarn, with the same shitty Drowning Pool song playing in my headphones.
It’s always because of something pathetic. Missing home, feeling lonely, boundless yet still stuck. That kinda stuff.
People always tell you that you’ll adjust to life here. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll find a place where you fit in, and it'll give birth to your new life.” What they don’t tell you is that feeling of heavy, freezing anguish never goes away.
You just learn to deal with it.
You start to keep all the different kinds of knickknacks that you find around the levels. Almond water caps, pens, fabric scraps, Frontrooms coins, notebooks, yarn, broken tools. Small things. Stupid things, admittedly, but keeping them helps in a way.
You do anything to make it feel a bit more comfortable. Warm, even. And still, I find myself here, toying with my hoodie strings. I find myself wiping my eyes with my sleeves, hooking the point of my crochet needle through loop after loop of yarn. Loop, hook, pull. Loop, hook, pull. Loop, hook, pull. Somehow surrounded by everything and nothing, trying to forget what this wretched world took from me.
It’s been long enough that I don’t remember what life was like back home. But I still miss it. I don’t know why, or even how, but I do. That’s what stings most about it.
I want my old friends, yet I couldn't picture them, write to them, remember them if I tried. Their laughter was sweet, kind, the highlight of every day, and I fear I didn't savor it enough.
I want my family, yet I can’t remember my own surname. Every picnic and game night is a blur. A messy, dark blur. I used to feel like I was suffocating with how much time we spent together, and now, I’d kill for even one more minute.
I want everything back from my past life.
I want the small things back.
They say you can build a new life here, that it’ll get better and this is only the worst of it. That you can settle and make a routine for yourself, get by and find a new family amongst the strangers of the world. That you’ll survive. But they don’t tell you just how different surviving is from living.
They don’t tell you that they wish they could go back too. They don’t tell you that they miss it just as much as you do.