My body is failing me. I have been getting colds near weakly for a year and a half, after a particularly wretched cold. My soul is failing me. I have been worn down by a stressful environment, living with an increasingly deranged loved one. By my crippled minds inability to meet the challenge. Which causes body to further fail. Today, I grokked that I am in a doom spiral, headed down the same path as my kin’s. I don’t wish for so wretched an end, for an end it shall be.
But why my failing soul? Why does the algorithm which calls itself Algon fail when challenged so? Because the piece which calls itself Algon is blind to what the rest of his soul says, and so it takes action. He reshapes himself to be a character which will bring things to a head, as he knew it would eventually come to. Burst out in anger, and maybe the collapse won’t break all my kin.
What shall I do now? The goal is restoring my deranged kin to sanity. The path must involve medication of a sort, and more care than I am currently shaped to give. The obstacles are wealth, and a kin-folk’s fear of medication. With that one, wrath has a poor tool compared to raw truth. And perhaps, with wealth, they may be able to give the care needed to our deranged kin.
Courage is needed, or the removal of fear. And I shall do so the only way I know how: by holding it with me, looking ever closer, till it has no power over me.
My body is failing me. I have been getting colds near weakly for a year and a half, after a particularly wretched cold. My soul is failing me. I have been worn down by a stressful environment, living with an increasingly deranged loved one. By my crippled minds inability to meet the challenge. Which causes body to further fail. Today, I grokked that I am in a doom spiral, headed down the same path as my kin’s. I don’t wish for so wretched an end, for an end it shall be.
But why my failing soul? Why does the algorithm which calls itself Algon fail when challenged so? Because the piece which calls itself Algon is blind to what the rest of his soul says, and so it takes action. He reshapes himself to be a character which will bring things to a head, as he knew it would eventually come to. Burst out in anger, and maybe the collapse won’t break all my kin.
What shall I do now? The goal is restoring my deranged kin to sanity. The path must involve medication of a sort, and more care than I am currently shaped to give. The obstacles are wealth, and a kin-folk’s fear of medication. With that one, wrath has a poor tool compared to raw truth. And perhaps, with wealth, they may be able to give the care needed to our deranged kin.
Courage is needed, or the removal of fear. And I shall do so the only way I know how: by holding it with me, looking ever closer, till it has no power over me.