Sometimes, meaning only the best, we take upon ourselves burdens the size of the moon, without realizing the moon is nothing more than a reflection of the sun. And so, in our ignorance, we march forward to our deaths, looking neither left nor right, for we are blinded by what is behind.
Okay, so I have no idea who wrote
this. It only just appeared
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Comments 80
As in distracting us from what's put us here, or why we've all been collected and stuck in Edensballs. We are collection of oddballs, doubt we all came from the same place originally.
It's fucking creepy when you think about, if you ask me. Especially thinking about how they got us stuck here, what kind of a thing can do that.
But you do have a point. All this floating does get ya thinking.
[ooc: crossed out stuff can still be read, he just crossed it out because he thought what he wrote would blow his cover of being just a pretty face...a very pretty face.]
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I mean, you've got memory crystals around every corner, right? Promising to give us some glimpse of the past. But once anybody ever gets one, all they can think about is the memory it contains, not where the actual crystal is from, its whys and even more important its hows. I mean, dude, what do you think? Have I been bitten by a rabid crazy?
[ ooc :: oh ho ho. now we wouldn't want that now would we? throne's strikes are pretty half-hearted. he may go back and strike them out later, but not as of yet. ]
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EXACTLY!
Yeah, who the fuck is handing out the memory crystals.
[ooc: also crossed out half-heartedly. Only a little paranoid about what he's writing because he remembered that everyone can read it, but at the same time he doesn't care all that much. It's mostly just precaution]
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You the adventuring type?
[ ooc :: throne's strikeouts are still pretty legible and he doesn't think he's wandered into dangerous territory, so he doesn't black them out entirely. ]
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And no, you are not the only one.
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Am I going to get in trouble for this?
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I don't know but you definitely rang a bell with me. Come talk to me soon, there's some things we need to go over.
((ooc: strikes = five minutes, then scratched out entirely.))
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Um, sure, okay I can do that. What's going on?
[ ooc :: the last strike lasts for a couple of minutes before being blacked out. ]
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&hearts
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I think it's all very philosophical, not lunatic at all. Really dear, you shouldn't be so bashful about having such deep thoughts. Though the modesty is entirely becoming on you.
Nearly as fetching as when you are being wicked.
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Sometimes, Iris, I wonder what I could have possibly done to get you so fooled about me. Give it time and you'll realize I'm just a guy without his head screwed on straight. No cleverness, no wickedness. Just a guy.
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I think you undersell your abilities in the area of introspection, these are good thoughts to consider.
There is a certain amount of fear in not knowing, it is perhaps what drives the obsession--a wish to learn and dispel that uncertainty. It is hard to exist without memories, without things to reference, but with knowledge--and no idea where it comes from. If they are a distraction, they are the most cleverly designed on.
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Yes, we all once were. But now we are, and people just don't want to deal with that. Or ignore it.
It's frustrating.
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But it's hard not to fall into that trap, isn't it? Obsessing over what was to the detriment of what is.
It sounds familiar enough to me, to give me pause.
And yet as you mentioned if we do not discover what we were, there is no telling when what we have not remembered will remember us, if that makes sense.
Frustrating is an understatement.
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But I think you know that I don't agree with the rest. I mean, what's real, our history, who we are, that has to matter. At the very least 'cause if what we did back then doesn't matter, how can anything we do now matter either?
I can't That doesn't make sense to me.
[ooc: first set of strike-outs left for a few minutes and then are completely blacked out]
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I'm saying that, right now, as I live and breathe, even if I don't know where I've come from, that doesn't stop me from knowing who I am. At least to an extent.
Want, you know as well as I do, that there are things we don't remember, but that -- deep down, somehow -- we still know.
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Or think we know? Therein lies the problem.
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We know. Or at least I know. You It's like the one thing that I have for certain and always have had since the very start. That has to count for something, Dub. ...right?
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