No, this isn’t suicidal 😛
I’m just dealing with some sorrow, responsibly. I’m getting it out this way, processing it.
You never think you’re going to get old. And I’m still not old: I’m about to be 40, but 40’s not old. 40’s just the middle-point, and it’s increasingly becoming a little south of the middle-point, in a good way.
But I’m not a spring chicken anymore. There’s that World of Warcraft poem, ‘there are creaks in your bones that weren’t there before,’ and while I can feel myself slowing down, I know that I have a lot of years left in me.
That’s precisely what I’m afraid of.
I know why he made Star Trek: Picard.
Because you don’t want it to end. You don’t want to get old, and then, that’s it, you’re sitting in your house all day long until you die. You want to stand on your own two feet, maybe die on your own two feet, but at least die standing.
Tonight I did 3 loads of laundry, washed and dried. Drank 5 Cokes, I know that’s not healthy for me. I learned how to use a plane, for wood. To smooth wood out.
Something’s happening to me. I’m getting healthier— much healthier than I was when I was trying to become a YouTuber. I tried it because I figured, hey, easy money? If I could become the next Markiplier, then, that would be that.
I did not become the next Markiplier.
I turned on my writing computer, today. Just about 13 minutes before I started writing this. And on my computer, are all my favorite things. You see, I saved images that aren’t on the Internet anymore— images I won’t share, even if they’re innocent.
They’re just drawings of people with their friends. Drawings of their characters on the game they liked to play together. Like this girl, she was on deviantART so long ago. I won’t say the year, but, hey.
Today I learned that she was 15 at the time she drew this. That makes sense, given how full of joy she was. I was once full of joy like that, as a kid. Not as old as 15, but I’m glad that she was full of joy when she drew this.
Those times are over now. Just like so many times before.
I think I found her images when I was looking for images of undead females, the Forsaken, from World of Warcraft. And she drew the best ones of them.
She’s gone now. It’s been two decades, or more, and they’re not on the Internet anymore.
I… think I wish I could go back.
They say you can never go home again.
If I could travel back in time to 1993, I think that I would. If I had enough money, and I could live happily, and in peace, with my wife and family, I think that I would.
I think that I would re-live everything that happened. Because, it was a good life. It was a good series of years, despite all the bad things that happened to us financially.
Now, people like that girl, they used to be all over the Internet. You couldn’t go anywhere without running into these kawaii happy people, who were all :3 and :3c and xD and all sorts of other boisterous emotions.
They’re gone now.
I don’t know what you people are anymore. I came from a place where people were happy. What is this Internet that I’m seeing?
Knytt Stories
Once upon a time, before many eggs had cracked, there was this game. It was called Knytt Stories.
Half a lifetime ago, I remember playing it, and feeling. . . good. Safe. Like everything was going to be okay.
It’s gone.
I don’t know what happened. I search and I search and I can find nothing about why Nifflas doesn’t host it anymore. You can still play it, thank God, but even finding that was like pulling teeth. Google didn’t help, I had to ask an A.I. for it.
Is this what it feels like to be old? To not know how to find things, to see everything you love vanish, wither, or die?
Once upon a time, there was a game called Onyx. Or was it called Oxyd? It, like many different games from when I was a kid, were once lost to me. The others are somewhere, I’m sure, but I remember a time when I was eating Macaroni and Cheese for lunch, I downloaded a Mac game, played it, had a lot of fun, and then deleted it to make room for some Sailor Moon stuffs… and then, I never found the game again.
All of these are my individual sorrows. All of these pictures I saved, all of these happy and fun times I saw—
I’ll give you an example. I used to visit VRChat worlds. And they’d have pictures of all these people, who were friends. And it always reminded me of Arcadium.
And I don’t think that whatever the Hell I want the Internet to be is possible anymore, where I want it to be.
I have all the memories of all the things I love, but the world I’m living in is hollow and everything I actually love is dead or gone, and I’m still alive. And I’m making things… and I just don’t think that keeping the fire alive in a dead world really matters anymore.