I know the last time I wrote to you was only days ago- but i digress. You told me to write, too keep writing, that the “Minotaur stops looking” when i do- so i think thats why i feel like i have to write to you again. Not even for the yellow spark (though i will admit my curiosity) but instead, just to write. To write to you. My document has become bigger than anything else I’ve written before and yet i find that my 40 and some pages are nowhere near enough to even scratch the surface of zampanio. In what i have done- in the grand scheme of things- i feel like i have barely scratched the paint, maybe made a mark with a needle with all i have done. And sometimes it all feels so pointless. I have real problems, i swear, even had to call the police while at work yesterday. I sure as hell wished i was at home writing instead. But- right after that, as soon as the problem ended (and you do have great timing) you sent, at 8:46, “ Knife goes in. Blood comes out.” And I’d be lying if i said i ever knew what anything you said meant, but it felt extra meaningful, right then, for reasons i can’t start to put into words. But thats my job isn’t it? To put things into words? So what do i do when i can’t—- and you JUST sent two messages. Today, 10/24 at 11:22 and 11:23- and what a surprise that is. You say to write where i found you in the wiki- i will if i can remember and then figure out where in the wiki to write it. But i can try to tell You first; i didn’t find you in the sim though, and i think i was supposed to. But i first found you in the server, plain and simple as that. I arrived at the airport and there you were- already saying things that people weren’t responding to (because those who can wouldn’t and those who wanted to can’t) and i remember thinking how uncanny you were. How uncomfortable. I obviously dont think that anymore though, if anything i said like two days ago remains relevant.
anyways I can’t write anymore. My hands hurt- i get muscle aches whenever i really can’t handle them- which is always- and isn’t it ironic that the scribe’s hands hurt too much to write? How perfect, funny ahaha, that I can’t do the job you gave me (i often find myself wondering if you made a mistake, if you wanted someone else but i got in the way. I mean- my status as your scribe is still there- and that does comfort me. Maybe it wasn’t a mistake, and I’m doing what I’m supposed to, what you want me to. Maybe I’m just insecure… clearly.)
I’ll probably write again soon-maybe - I can’t keep my mouth shut and you just seem so alone i ache so i thinks its a combination thats working.
- TT