One of my favorite things about being in my early 20s is that I'm starting to understand that I can use things not for their intended purpose. When you're growing up, you get told what an object is and what its intended purpose is, and as a kid/teen, I just accepted all of it at face value. As a young adult it's finally clicking that I can simply do things a different way if it makes me happier. Sure, I was taught that you stand to take a shower, but there's nothing stopping me from just sitting if I don't feel like it, ya know? I might have always had my medication in the kitchen, but if I'm no longer remembering to take it, I can just move it somewhere where I can remember. You don't have to specifically store all food in the kitchen, you can have a little snack cart or snack station in another room.
The downside to finding out the various ways you can use objects is that you develop habits that would probably go on an r/relationships post where everyone says you're a little freak.
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These halls seem so empty, even when thronged with people. That which I loved more than stars and breath has again escaped my grasp, and eternity seems faded and doomed to decay, even here in the Undying Lands.
Cruelly bright memories of distant years are the only things I can hold to my aching heart; I always believed that they would be enough. They are not; for they are too vivid, yet too far away -- you are long gone, and I am left here with nothing but lucent yet gossamer dreams. Unceasing, unchanging, dancing in the ash of a cracked soul. The spectres left behind only ever speak in laughing derision and leave their footprints like bloodstains.
What good is eternity without you? Even those most beloved moments are now coated in a fine sheen of dust. When I shake it away, I find it only concealed the suppurating wounds upon my soul. The macabre filigree of spiders have covered them in mockery of the scars they will never heal into. Accursed memory, the thing in me as alive as any waking moment and just as clear, yet never quite enough. Perhaps this is my mortal weakness.
I let you choose your own destiny, as any heart with any mercy in it must have -- how could I have lived if I refused you to walk upon your own path? Alas, the consequences of my letting you fade to but a mere recollection are now tearing me apart.
And I know...and only as the evening falls and the day dies can I whisper into the approaching darkness that I know the truth…that the one who is truly fading is myself.
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