It started with the Master

Feels like dragging.
I've come to realize that expectations are being created even if I'm not aware of it. It's a self-backstabbing. When you feel like you don't want to carry on about the cycle's end, because in the end there will be another beginning. And all will be the same.

You realize it gets lonelier. But it's all your fault because you expected people to gather. And you don't know exactly why was that reunion so anticipated if nothing was ever discussed. It was, thin air. Becoming solid misery.
And that voice always warned you. We live alone. We are alone. You've strayed from the path when you made that choice. Because you thought that all that area could be fulfilled with people. But you did not consider that you cannot work well with people. People bore you. People tire you. And sooner or later you won't be able to give your all to them. So you cannot possibly expect something in return.
The voice warned you. Those words came not for omens, or for division. It came to help you. Because it hurt too.
But you've learned in the past, that being hurt is important. It teaches you not to delve deeper into what brings you down. Pain is fundamental, suffering is optional. You used to repeat that to yourself. When did you forget what you learned?
Don't step back. This is your fight, and no matter how much we wish we could, we cannot help you.

And you see...
Now that we are alone in this bedroom, and there's nothing the outsiders can do to change what happens. I start to wonder.
Why did I become this?
How could I let it get to this point?
I've asked myself these questions through and through this year. But only now I get to figure out, that I have no will of getting up. I could lie in this bed for the next dozens of hours. No new year's party, no messages, no pretending. Just me and the darkness.
Saying darkness makes it look rougher than it is. It is that dimmed light that waves us goodbye as the sun sets itself. It's a period that feels particularly sad, but it's also beautiful, and it brings the night. I love the night, for reasons unknown to this day.
But it's also silent.
A silence that I've pursued mentally many times this year. A desire that feels ungrateful for all people have given me. But still, it remains. I crave for not worrying, and while I keep in this form, people make me worry.
I don't want to go anywhere.
And suddenly all those weird childish teenager illusions come back. These characters that bring peace and comfort, endowed with beauty beyond belief.
They help me. They help me? I guess I know the answer. But while they are around, I like to just be taken care of.
I don't even need to ask for the comfort, they know by heart.
All by heart.

I won't scream, I won't cry.
I hope you rest and come back.
And after you come back you find yourself.
And when it's all put together, you feel yourself.
I beg you. For I know what you can do.
And I've seen what you're made of.
Please, for all that is still worth standing up.
You get off this bed.
Just stand up.
Look in the mirror.
And see.
Not the vast emptiness that's between you and what you look.
But rather that.
I know what makes your heart beats faster and what brings chills down your spine.
And deep down, under all that crap, you know it too.
You remembered it all year.
Every. Single. Day.
You dreamed of it, you thought of it, you breathed of it.
I don't speak of the crap they speak, I don't care about this spiritual and social mumbo jumbo.
It's all there.
And it's real for you.
And that, is enough for me.
And I won't stand in here trying to get you up.
You're the one who has to get out.
Brinstar, Larapool, Azeroth, you name it.
You will get up and you will get back there.
And if you can't get there, we'll at least, on the very fucking least, die trying.
Because that is one of the things you've learnt, I know you did.
No matter how many times the princess is taken, we WILL GET HER BACK.
Just because.
Now, please. Get. Over. Here.