Albedo

You looked back in time again.
You’re not as unsatisfied as you usually are, how curious.

What is so different about this stretch?
You’re usually a lot more… suicidal… when you think about these things.

Ah… I see.
You’re surprised at yourself…
There’s a lot there now.

So much you can’t believe it was all you.

Things are very different now Sol.

It was one of those days, the ones where the room wasn’t quite enough for some annoying and unimportant reason.

His first instinct was to look for others. Ask for help, speak to a real person, walk outside, look into another’s eyes. Any shared weight would alleviate the feeling.

His second instinct was to ignore the first. After all, we have been here before, have we not? You’ve already carried this weight. This time you simply got tired. Just wait. Do you remember what usually happens if you get too desperate?

Be quiet for a bit, won’t you?
Do you remember now?
Yeah, that’s it. A long, slow, deep breath, then move again.

It’s already better than before.
Remember that you are strong enough now, that was just a scare.

You can be a good weather friend now.
Someone will appreciate it, I promise.

It all reads as some sort of punishment, doesn’t it?
Maybe we speak from a place of delusion, to ignore our urges to cry for help, and to speed through the 7 stages of grief in a single moment.

And yet… it’s hard to think we would like it any other way.
To walk forward with scars is a lot more fun and aesthetic than walking forward in a sunny day.
Whatever cope it is, one learns to enjoy the bittersweet.

The doll spun and danced and lip-synced to the loud song.

“I have done a lot” it said.
This was the first time it had ever said that.

It looked back this time and something out of the ordinary happened. Not hatred for itself, not pity for it’s time, not begging God for forgiveness for not paying it’s dues.

It was simply glad. It had walked far. It wasn’t that fast not that slow, it was simply enough.

And the doll smiled as it danced back home, and the doll smiled as the warm bath felt better than it ever had, and the doll smiled as it settled on the bed after weeks of walking.

“I am walking” it said.
This was the first time it had ever said that.

“I might be able to pay pack what I owe.” it said.
Tomorrow caused it fear and anxiety, but it would face it with renewed resolve this time, not exhaustion.

We found it!

The inspiration to be unashamed again!

It keeps getting lost when we get pushed back and hit when we are down, but a dark moment simply has no fuel to last forever!

And so our voice is back!

As if we were drunk even as we only drink water!
As if the air were fresh even as it is hot and damp!

I kind get it now!
Water into wine was sorta like this, right?

I feel so pure that water itself is enough to feel drunk on life!

It felt a moment of peace. The foggy rain, blocking its vision to the horizon, was its favorite view.

Why?

Why would this scene of limited vision and haziness calm it so?

My guess is that it felt less threatened. There was less to see, less to process, less to look up to, and less to hear.

Just the pitter-patter of the smallest droplets, and buildings fading into the fog.

To it, scary were the infinite possibilities, and this vision felt the opposite.
It forced the thing to accept what it could see and feel instead of imagining what was beyond.

And the doll didn’t jitter as much in such moments. The doll’s legs didn’t bounce, the doll’s mind didn’t wander. The doll simply looked out the window.

And it embraced the lull as if it yearned for it more than the world of possibilities it was forced into.

And it gave to the fog a thankful prayer.

And it stared.