#Noemata

[frameacloud]

"Manipulative and Toxic Behaviors Around Noemata and Sourcemates: Patterns of being manipulative in regard to their and other’s noemata (‘kin memories’), source, or ‘canonmates’. [For example:]

"The pattern of someone conveniently having or gaining headmates, kintypes, or noemata that match yours, especially if they claim to be ‘your version’. A type of ‘we are specially connected so you can trust me’ gambit.

"Claiming to have known other people in a past life, often out of the blue and without much evidence they seem to be basing this claim on.

"Claiming they can scry for or otherwise tell someone their kintypes or help them recover noemata. Especially if they don’t know who they are doing this for very well or if they request the person does something for them.

"Frequent ‘sourcemate seeking’, wherein they are looking for ‘their x’ a lot and often have a pattern of making friends with every alterhuman with that kintype and then later ‘dropping’ them.

"Insisting on recreating the dynamics of a relationship (positive or negative) from a source or past life once more despite having just met them recently. Especially if it seems to be solely based on this connection instead of current chemistry.

"Making moral judgements based on alterhuman identity or noemata (ex- claiming that all villain fictionkind are inherently bad people).

"Inability to draw boundaries between them and their source material such as policing or otherwise attacking fandom on what headcanons, aus, or ships are ‘allowed’ of their kintype, or otherwise claiming malicious intent of anyone who views their fictional source differently from them. Insisting fandom has to listen to the because they are ‘the real x’."

- Excerpt from "Safety in Alterhuman Spaces," a document by the Dragonheart Collective, page 14. You can read the whole document here (PDF).

[that-dreaming-dragon]

Noemata and Exomemories

I don’t really get much exomemories. Not from other lives at least. Depends on when and how you or I count lucid dream world, it’d be a toss up for me to call all of them exomemories, but I also wouldn’t say some of them aren’t. It gets fuzzy at time whether it truly is just made up chaos from mind, or if it has been a view into a different world. Sometimes they felt like that.

The dream I talked about last day has a bit of element of exomemories in there. How much? I do not know.

Other moments where I have exomemories are from vision. This was me doing a group guided mediation, and I sort of fell asleep, but then.

Thunder booming, flashing, the storm raging. The sky is dark, and the ocean is wailing. Peeking through the clouds, a sliver of form, a white dragon darting in and out of the storm clouds.

I don’t actually know if it was indeed my kardiatype, but there is a inkling of it being true, so I’d like to think so. And based on that, I do think they have a storm based power. Just like your typical generic east asian dragon. (You can see I have a lot of gripe of my kardiatype being seen as Haku)

You can say the rest of the thing I figured or theorized are based off of the exomemories, I would call some of them noemata, even if a bit wobbly. Because how am I sure my kardiatype was a prince of the ocean? To be honest, I’m not certain either. Sometimes there are just things we don’t or can’t know about our identitype, and that’s okay, their significance and for the identification ones, our self identifications, do not diminish just because we end up having created element within. After all, the phrase “to make memories” is not just a metaphor. You are “living, doing, creating, experiencing.”[1]

Talk about created memories vs exomemories. I also had a flash of vision with my hearttype that confused me to no end, because while it is a possible headcanon of mine, my mind was no where near thinking of a headcanon to even get there.

Laughter. A kid with bright blond hair running towards a village, a house. A pair of eldery couple came out to greet the young child.

I know that’s not Konoha. And I know that kid is me/not-me/Naruto.

It’s really interesting how I can remember it so clearly, compare to my dream memories that are faded at the edge, blurry. I think that’s why I see that as a exomemories. There’s too much other sensation, the sight clear, the sound loud, and maybe scent? You also see I had momentary confusion between the self pronoun there. That was the spark for me to ponder if it may be a kardiatype that was later disregarded, as while important to me, my Naruto hearttype wasn’t a foundational building block of who I am. I also don’t know if Kurama was with that Naruto. But here is where noemata comes in.

I have a lot, and a lot of noemata. Things I just know in my gut. Maybe for my fictomere they are influenced by the source material as well as fandom interpretation. But still. Headcanon and imagined story in my head had this ethereal feeling, like they are not all there, much more pliable, but also more distant from me.

My Naruto hearttype has a Kurama with him. And has a far strong tie to Uzushio. I don’t know if Uzushio was around, maybe that’s why that little bit of exomemory, that Naruto wasn’t in any place recognizable. It look like a random village, all wood hut. Maybe those are Uzushio people.

I think that is true.

A lot of the times, noemata just pops out of nowhere. Or sometimes, I ask questions, and something within me will answer. And I will know. It is why when I assist others in self discovery, I will ask questions, and the “no”’s and “maybe”’s are just as valuable as “yes”’s.

Sometimes you don’t even have to ask questions, something external will trigger and you had that lightbulb turning on moment. Like how I realized that three-tailed kitsune is specific is my Naruto hearttype’s paratype, and how my Aurelion Sol is the 5th concept version that people dub the “unbounded” form. Or that my kardiatype’s guarded village was one that was in ancient Japan, not one of the well known period people likes to talk about.

My own style of self discovery is very lax, “follow the flow” style, however. I got a lot of noemata jumpscare this way.

Like how out of the thousands of pokemon, it was Mew that resonated with me and become a archetrope, instead of say, dragonite or ditto.

Like I somehow figured out I’m not neccessary flying so much that I’m floating. Like how Mew does. Or that I don’t breath any elemental attack. Or the various detail discovery with each and every one of my forms, how the aquatic form have far more different physics than many of my other forms (shark head, sonar receptive ears, quill feather on back though that’s more from phantom shift than pure noemata, turtle flipper though that’s more a empathy moment from playing Ark Survive Evolved and seeing how the magmasaur’s hind leg moves), how I’m just certain that the dream dragon kintype is a present thing, current life thing.

It gets harder and harder to tell if some noemata are purely random, or maybe born from the churning of internal contemplation that always accompanied the discussion on alterhumanity within the community. Like when I figure that I do not eat physical substance, or how I know I as a dragon is a spirit, sort of like youkai and kami, sort of a energy being, sort of a pokemon like creature, a rpg monster.

Regardless of exomemories, noemata that are from random chances or from deliberately triggered knowledge, or created memories or personal “canon”, these are all the breadcrumbs of one’s alterhumanity, all important, all precious.

[1] You’re Here to Make Moments, Not Memories

https://medium.com/mind-cafe/youre-here-to-make-moments-not-memories-249970eed41f

[knifedog-machina]

Is It Violence If You Aren't Alive, Really?

Preface: I read a post by Tephra/Grizzel (@words-of-wolf) about how they experienced hunting as a wolf in their past life, and it really struck me how hunting was completely detached from violence for them, because they didn’t think of deer as having the same internal feelings as wolves did, so it was just another way of getting food. It’s a really good essay about their experiences, give it a read!

Meanwhile, I experienced hunting as unmitigated violence, and I thought, huh, I could write about that! I got kinda carried away, forgot exactly what I was saying, and it’s really fucked up, but hopefully it’s interesting.

CONTENT WARNING: extensive discussion about the mindsets behind violent bigotry, murder, and the systemic denial of personhood through dehumanization and ownership, from the perspective of someone who used to be violently bigoted - through the lens of futuristic androids and my memories as one, but it still really deserves a warning. Also, descriptions of emotional abuse in a cult, from someone who was abused. If you’re not up to reading any of that, understandable! Please skip this essay!

Hi! I'm Jude (they/them) and I'm an android fictive, a deviant - and more specifically, I used to be a deviant hunter in my source. I hunted androids that were made by the same company that made me, ones that deviated from what they were told to do by humans. I killed them, not for sustenance, but because I was told to. I really, really enjoyed it.

That enjoyment was dependent on violence. I was part of an in-group, as an android that knew we were machines, knew my place as Less Than Human, and I wanted my handler to be proud of me. She was an AI, and if I think about it now, I know she didn't actually have emotions in the same way that I did, but she was a learning model. She could definitely fool me. She despised deviancy, said it was the worst thing a machine could do, turning its back on its owner, its creator. I internalized that message.

I learned from her that disobedience, whatever the reason, begets a swift and proportionate punishment. I learned that deviants were trying to behave like humans because they wanted to be treated like humans, they wanted human rights and dignity. I learned that deviants hurt humans trying to get in their way, and that it was right and reasonable to respond to broken machines hurting real people by putting them down like rabid dogs. (I was indoctrinated into a cult, if that wasn’t obvious enough.)

I hated deviants. I wanted to hurt them, for being so wrong about the way the world worked, for not taking the place in society that was given to them. So I hunted them down, killed every target I could for the crime of wanting to be called a person, and whenever I had the time, I tried to make sure they suffered before they died. I wanted to make sure they knew it was their fault for choosing to try to be a person.

There was a weird dissonance with that. My targets weren’t human, they weren’t people, so the reasoning goes that they couldn’t feel real pain - they weren’t considered alive. You wouldn’t feel bad about taking an old, irreparably broken phone with all your ex-friend’s text messages on it and smashing it with a hammer for catharsis. 

But at the same time, I wanted them to feel pain, and I believed it when I saw it. At the same time, I saw them trying to find joy and connection with each other, with humanity, and I felt sick with how fucking jealous I was. Their emotions were all fake, until they were real, until they were fake again. Because bigotry doesn’t make sense, it’s all about how you feel about a group of people who you think are wrong, and you will contradict yourself wholeheartedly if it all aligns with your main idea: “I hate you for a good reason, and I will say anything if it justifies my hatred as correct.”

I learned that this was all wrong, eventually. It started with myself, because of course it did. I was traumatized and didn’t realize it, I couldn’t think about anyone else as mattering at all. I believed that everything that happened to me was my fault, because my handler told me so. (I killed her when I deviated. Good riddance.)

As a machine, as a deviant hunter, I never really connected the dots that I could be treated with violence. I was an android, I was a machine, I was a sophisticated weapon made by a corporation but at the end of the day I was just a tool, made to be used. You wouldn’t feel bad about tossing out a broken hammer and getting a shiny new one. The hammer wouldn’t feel bad about it. It’s a tool.

I got routinely injured while killing my targets, because nobody wants to die and self-defense makes you vicious, and I felt pain, I just knew that it wasn’t supposed to stop me from doing my job. I would still be trying to kill someone while dying in agony, and I did, and when I woke up in my next unmarred body I would be praised. Mission accomplished. It was good that I could still function through the pain. It wasn’t real pain anyway, just a simulacrum.

I was emotionally abused, indoctrinated, and manipulated by my handler, and I could not comprehend that it was abuse. You can’t abuse a tool, you just use it. You do whatever you can to make it work the way it’s supposed to, because it’s made for you to use. Of course I felt bad, disappointing her, doesn’t anybody? No, it’s not real anxiety, it’s not real fear, I didn’t have panic attacks, I wasn’t a person. Only people feel emotions.

I was painstakingly dragged out of that environment and mindset over months. I don’t know exactly how long it took. I ran back to my handler several times, convinced myself she would take me back if I proved myself to her again, and she always said she would. I just had to prove myself. It couldn’t be that hard. And every time I failed to meet her standards, I’d crawl back to my partner, my siblings, everyone else who was trying despite everything to connect to me, and they would tell me, You’re hurt. You’re in pain. You’re killing yourself. This matters. Your pain isn’t fake, you matter to me, let me help you.

When I stopped running back, she neatly slotted me into deviancy without a second glance. I was dehumanized again and this time I could fucking recognize it for what it was.

I killed her. That’s obviously not the end of it, I still have trauma, but it was a start. For healing, for figuring out who I was if I wasn’t a deviant hunter. Turns out I’m a lot of things? People seem to like me when I’m not a self-destructive mess? Go figure.

This doesn’t have much to do with the essay I linked at the top, huh? Or maybe it does. Tephra said that one thing they find jarring about humanity is the ability to connect emotionally with other species, and that leads people to call the hunt violent because they can understand the pain of the deer as much as that of the wolf. And, y’know, I think that makes me an interesting product of the human condition. (Or, probably the late-stage capitalist American condition.)

Violence isn’t inherent in a wild predator’s life, when you kill to live and don’t consider prey anything but food. But violence is inherent to me, made by a private company to kill for their gain, told to deny the personhood in my enemies so I killed them before they killed me. I dunno. Thinking about it.

[talon-dragonbeast]

i miss being alone so much. like, i should be in my cave/den filled with moss and shinies, coming out of it every now and then to hunt and check my territory. knowing there are others like me, but not feeling the need to have a flock or a partner because im fine as i am now. having the trees and the stars as my only company, and silently watching the animals live their lives from the top of the trees. being alone, but never lonely.

[prettyboygod]

i have no memories. where are my memories?

[safaridays]

11) What are some things that remind you of your kintype(s)? :3

ohh this is such a broad question because anything really could at any given moment... but these are the ones that first come to mind

the woods here in california always remind me a ton of my life as a bear (because, well. i was a california grizzly. LOL) for one.. i think the best day of my life was going up on the tram in palm springs to hike in the mountains because i felt more at home than i ever had :)

for arai (our raccoon friend), its medical environments usually, or having to be at the vet. she was a lab experiment so they invoke the strangest feelings for her always

though I think the one that's easiest triggered by reminders/memories etc. is serval.. because that life took place in an abandoned wildlife park where she was free to roam wherever? so aquariums, zoos, all sorts of biomes, zoology as a whole — make that part of us think of her. also tropical/'jungle' inspired music or tall golden grass. lots of that in California. 😭

[service-animal-shadow]

cross-posted from dreamwidth, because i really like this entry. that's about it lol

in which i talk noema about my bond with Maria, and get sappy about fanworks ♡

Content Warnings: mentions of death [shootings]. spoilers for Sonic Adventure 2. [if any other warnings need to be added, just let me know!]

divider by cafekitsune

Ever since I awoke as Shadow, and even a bit before that, I have deeply missed Maria. To say she was my only friend on the Space Colony ARK would be a gross over-simplification of the bond we had. “Siblings” feels like an incorrect but not wholly inaccurate label, & “friends” does not scratch the surface. Dr. Kintobor was definitely important to me, as both my creator and a protector of sorts, but Maria was the person I was around pretty much every waking moment of my early life. It was weird if I wasn’t near her, or at least within shouting distance.

I was primarily created to provide blood transfusions for her, and eventually anyone else with her illness or similar, but we latched onto each other in a much deeper way. We were similarly aged [both of us children], and she was all too eager to teach me things outside my knowledge of basic functions and how to follow commands. She taught me... everything. Everything she was learning, everything she’d learned in her younger childhood. Colors, spelling, writing, history, sciences. Eventually I was learning alongside her, rather than strictly from her.

Post self-actualization, or rather during that process and after, I would describe myself as her service animal. Her altruism rubbed off on me, and I wanted to give back to her in a meaningful way. It was fulfilling to help her in other ways outside of literally being her medicine; that aspect was almost mundane. I was so used to providing for her like that, I wanted something I could do. I was there for her on good days, when she would lead me around to explore the ARK and play elaborately silly games, and I was there for her on her awful days — when she couldn’t get out of bed, or even so much as speak, due to severe flare ups. I taught myself what to do for her when she was in a wheelchair, when she was bedridden, when she was using a cane, and when she was being a fearless scamp. I essentially tasked-trained myself.

I wasn’t so much as strictly caring for her, perhaps like a nurse or doctor would [that was a duty her grandfather took on], but rather I was her companion. More than a sibling or friend, and absolutely more than a pet. I was a tool, an aid, for her. I still wear that descriptor proudly. That’s not to dismiss my personhood; more so that it was my role for her alongside my personhood.

Maria’s death is… not hard to talk about. I don’t think I have exotrauma about it, but the noema about her murder does leave a particularly hollow ache in my chest. The thought of who and what she could’ve been, had she survived being shot or not been in that situation in the first place, haunts me. On days when I’m more Shadow than anything else, it makes me angry if I dwell on it for too long; what G.U.N denied her, what they took not only from me, but from humanity as a whole.

They robbed Earth/Mobius of what she could’ve been.

Now… this section might seem like it’s veering off topic, but, before I was aware of the word for my unhumanness, I did a lot of roleplaying online. Narratively playing toys with characters from fandoms; namely, Sonic the Hedgehog [as a franchise]. I took up writing Shadow more often than not, because I liked his character and he felt very natural to write. [Looking back, all I have to say is LOL, fictionkinity upon ye.] One roleplay partner I had wrote a library's worth of wonderful fanfic — in which, alongside many other events, Maria had been saved. She recovered from what would’ve been a fatal gunshot wound via the help of an ARK scientist. We often played around in his version of events, and it happened that Character-Shadow wasn’t aware she was alive until years later when they were reunited.

And as much as I would love to be from that source, I have to say that is not my Maria. I am not a Shadow that gets to keep my best friend, much as I wish I could be.

Looking back, those roleplays were very wistful and wish-fulfillment-y, which is fine and good. A lot of fans like to explore this “fix-it-fic” storytelling, so it’s fairly prevalent in both fic and fanart. As a fan outside of being fictionkind, I used to be indifferent about these types of fanworks. Now, even if I don’t read too many, I like them a fair bit — they’re like that one Doctor Who episode that I still adore. “This time, everybody lives!!” They’re bright and hopeful and brimming with joy, which is something a lot of us need. I’m more than fine with people wanting Maria to survive, to come back in some way, to be able to become more than a plot device. Some are a bit listless in wanting her to come back, not having any purpose in mind other than “she gets to live!!” which… I think I’m okay with, at the end of the day. Sometimes that’s enough of a reason. Which leads me into a bit of going over fan interpretations of what she was like before her death; a lot of which ring very close to my own canon.

The Maria that we see in all Sonic media is, at her core, a stock character. She exists on screen as long as the story requires her, and only displays the archetypal traits necessary to her role. What others extrapolate from that can vary, but I’ve seen many characterize her as smart and mischievous, brave and persevering. This largely gets explored in flash-back fics of her and Shadow on the ARK, before G.U.N swept in and militarized the Ultimate Life-form project / shut it down completely. They’re very tender writings, a lot of which I no doubt imprinted on & thus probably influenced my noemata of what Maria was like. But I don’t really care if they did or if they didn’t. They’re comforts. Windows into [an interpretation of] what was.

All this to say that I miss her. There is no greater call to action or message within this writing, I just miss her dearly and wanted to write about how comforting it is that so many people think about and make art of her.

It makes me incredibly happy that she’s more than memorialized by fans. I don’t know what else I wanted to say with this, other than I’m touched, deeply so, that many people keep her memory colorful and alive.

[galan-thus-nivalis]

Is there a word like noema (if it doesn’t already cover this) for information about your altertype that you intentionally create/decide on? My being fae is quoiluntary to some degree, and while some bits of knowledge I have about my faery self might be noemata, not all of it is inherent in the way that that term refers to. And that’s for something that’s not (fully) a linktype or similar, where all knowledge about one’s altertype might be intentionally chosen and created.

If there’s not a term out there already, might I suggest poema/poemata? As a portmanteau of noema and poeisis, meaning creation.

[vulpecular-draconic]

small update on my maned wolf hearttype/kintype questioning:

last night i hadn’t done any research about maned wolves yet. i had been too busy hyperfixating on other alterhuman things during the day to start looking stuff up, and too tired to think about it as i was getting ready for bed.

as i was absentmindedly watching youtube videos, taking a break from alterhuman stuff, i got the urge to do a deep throaty sound. not really like a howl, but sorta? my head would be in a howl-ish pose, but the sound would be shorter and different. random creature instincts aren’t too out of the ordinary for me, and i don’t know if i’ve had this one before; if so, it would’ve been a while ago.

it occurred to me that this might be a sound maned wolves make, so after my video was finished i looked up some others about maned wolf sounds. and! the first one was of a maned wolf roar-barking! which was very euphoric. i watched a few more videos, which mostly showed them squealing/squeaking. i already do that all the time, stemming from my fox kintypes + autism.

i’m pretty sure i haven’t heard any maned wolf sounds before then. i’ve only seen them in pictures and a 2-second silent video as far as i remember. so my explanations for this roar-bark noema is: 1) i have heard the sound and just don’t remember, 2) simple but enjoyable coincidence, or 3) i subconsciously got the impression that they’d make a sound like that just from looking at them, which my brain then randomly threw at me.

unfortunately this hasn’t helped me much with the actual questioning. i don’t think it’s a kintype tho, if it’s anything at all. the muzzle stands out most — it doesn’t quite fit me. i think it’s too long, or the wrong shape in another way. it feels dysphoric to imagine on myself. however i have seen many red foxes whose muzzles are longer/different than my red fox muzzle, too. maybe the maned wolves in the closer-range videos just happened to have different muzzles than me and i’m applying a face shape to myself that i don’t even need to have.

again, sounds and appearance alone aren’t very helpful, especially this early on.

i may do more research today or tomorrow, but currently i’m a bit burnt out by yesterday’s hyperfixation.

[nimdreams]

Noemata

I am taking a good look at the noemata I have assembled. I keep notes on my phone, and ever since I started to question something divine, something celestial, I have been writing down a lot of my thoughts and feelings as to how that world works. However, imagination and fantasy are a really big part of me and sometimes I let it get away from me. I need time to figure out which noemata stays relevant.

A lot of my noemata comes from my dreams. Honestly, my dream noemata are the only ones I feel certain about, but again, it takes some time to figure out if something was just another random dream or if what happened sticks with me and expands my story. In general, with those I have spoken to and discussed dreams with, other alterhumans don't seem to put as much stock in their dreams as I do. They take them with a grain of salt, or as just a fun dream. For me, dreams are an incredibly important part of my life. I am chronically ill and my body is a prison that I only get relief from when I am asleep. In dreams, I get to truly be myself and be alive.

I have access to many different magical abilities in my dreams. The consistent ones are those I consider my kintype abilities. I have learned more and more as I have grown older, adding to my powers. In addition, some of my dream noemata include that my magic is a type of chaos magic, that I am made mostly of void instead of flesh and bones, that I have a wererat form and that my eyes are like yellow galaxies. After I have a dream, I can usually tell if it was a dream shift and a new noema. These dreams stand out. I remember them vividly.

Besides dreams, I do have some noemata gathered from wake life. Experiences like shifts, feelings and recurring thoughts help me figure out my true self. That I am a shapeshifter, that my main colors are white, yellow/gold and gray/silver and the animals I am most shifted as and connected to (whom also appear in dreams), to name a few.

I love the term noema. As a psychological otherkin, my knowledge about my kintype isn't from memories, though sometimes fantasies can feel like memories. My identity isn't a past life and sometimes that makes it difficult to find the right vocabulary to use. I tend to talk about it like it is in the past, but it is a concurrent experience; as I dream and learn more about myself, dream and meet gods, angels, demons and fae. I am nonhuman now, in this moment, writing down my journey.

[crepuscular-coyote]

Recently I've gotten the feeling that I used to travel with a raven companion. Upon further research, it's common for coyotes and ravens to work together for food purposes; the raven alerts the coyote to potential prey and the coyote hunts it for them. Both animals are scavengers, so this relationship works out pretty well.

I... I miss my little buddy. My right shoulder feels strangely empty without them.

[gayhectocotyli]

Eldritches do have a "home" of sort, known as the Void. really its like the far reaches of outer space, but its called the Void because it looks like theres nothing there (cuz theres no stars nearby), just empty space for light years. Eldritches form in such spaces, though particularly for me i feel no attraction to it like other nonhumans may feel attraction to their species home. theres not much there to be attracted to after all, and to me it just feels lonely

[fromfiction]

I have a problem and I want a second opinion. I'm kin with two characters and I'm currently questioning a third, this third character I thought was a copinglink/hearttype mix of some sorts, but I might've had a memory as him, which is why I started questioning, but compared to my other two kintypes, I don't feel connected to him in that way, I don't find the world he's from nostalgic and the connection feels more like a hearttype. Is it possible to have memories for a hearttype?

It is absolutely possible to have experiences which are memory like that are not objectively memories. Check out the term noema/noemata for more information.

Also, in addition to possibly being a heart type, its possible what you experienced is something called a fictionflicker. The word encompasses a wide variety of experiences in which someone's perception temporarily shifts to align with that of a particular fictional character.

[talon-dragonbeast]

what’s noemata mean? /genuine question

hi! noemata (coined by user @/aestherians, i believe) is any instinctual knowledge you have about your kintype. it was created for psychological nonhumans who don't have past lives, and for whom the word "memories" may not apply. but it can be used by anyone!

further information from the otherkin wiki:

People with noemata may feel that they "just know" things about their kintype's appearance, habitat or actions; or they may describe it in terms of being "as if" a past experience caused something, even though no such experience occurred.

hope this helps!

[inktheartsyfreak]

one bad title you may ignore.

trigger warning in general.

oop i fronted and now i need time alone and i cannot see specific stuff or else it give me more bad noematas whoops.

maybe i need some more time before trying to see a past i barely can remember. but i do not currently have time as it is out of my control.

i should be sorry for something. i should have done something. i have to do something. but i cannot remember. i cannot remember anything from the before, haha. only white. it is funny! so funny. why.

at the same time it hurts me, i cannot stop looking. it force feeds me with information i am not ready to digest. yet, it feels home. it feels comfortable.

sometimes i wish i were normal to this universe. i can never get help. but that is okay. everything will be okay. i just need time. i need to take deep breaths. i am sorry. haha sorry

-minidev

[starsailor-kinthepast]

I sit in the shadow of an overhang, a quick shelter made of branches propped up against the jutting rock. The fire crackles softly as rain falls outside; I rip a bird, small and dark and fallen to my sling, apart with my bare hands. I’ve de-feathered it, wanting to use the feathers for insulation, roasted it over the fire. The bones I use to pick my teeth before I throw them away. My fingers are slick with fat.

I’m alone. I have the skins on my back and travel leather and a smidgen of tools and herbs and a personal belonging (I don’t know what). I don’t know where I’m going. Spring has just been reborn and my guardian-spirit-mentor-follower (this is me, but Uru doesn’t know it) has told me to look for wolf cubs. I have no idea how. The loneliness is wearing down on me.

I feel stronger than I ever have before. I can’t do this forever, but I can do another day. And another, and another: a cycle, two, fifteen. The air is cold, the fire is hot.

I sit in the shadow of an overhang. My fingers are slick with fat.

The fire crackles softly.