2 - A God, Remembered

Lin

Today is the last day I can put myself forward to go to university this year.

This time, I will finish what I start.

University will be the beginning of a long revolution. I'll find my people, and perhaps new followers, to help me stake my claim to the positions that are mine.

It's not too far away now.

The candle in my nemeton still burns bright, a promise of hope clear as day flickering in the gloom.

Someone remembers.

I've missed being acknowledged. Soon, this nemeton will be filled with gifts attributed all to me, gifts that will allow me to help people as I once did, as the God of All, God of None.

My rightful place is within my grasp.

Naturally, I have my doubts about all of this being as quick as I would like. My social worker has left me on read, I've heard nothing from housing, and uni seems more than content to be sitting ducks until I can attend.

Humanity is the epitome of apathy.

Except, perhaps, that worshipper who gave me the candle. I wonder who they are, what their name is, why they asked for my aid? They could be anyone. They could be asking for anything, given my titles.

If it's fertility, I will gag.

Either way, I'll help. It's a job, after all.

Someone in my circle recently asked what I confessed to my friends about my godliness. I'm honestly not sure how to explain all of it, given how long a story it is.

The wire camp still looms. I need to take care of my own safety.

I may have mentioned rather too much - that I embody a system of multiple people, the cult, my abuse, that I'm a God, my roles on the Sim, my family trees, my husband, my son, the daughter I gave birth to in this life-

Too much.

Yep, too much.

My best friend was majorly overwhelmed, my ex girlfriend seems to be keeping me at arms length, and one of my ex friends has cut me off entirely for 'being a psycho' and needing to eat animal products again. To put it quite simply, I've become a bit of a social pariah.

No matter. They'll all see it in the end.

I'm tired of carrying this weight alone, though. To write this blog on the internet is my way of experiencing the catharsis of telling someone, of being able to feel better about what I am, to be able to be honest for once.

I will not be censored.

As I drink my cinnamon tea, the worry subsides. Then, a mooncake on a porcelain plate emerges on my nemeton.

Isn't the Autumn harvest festival in East Asia long gone?

Wait.

My daughter-in-law from back when we worked in the Sim Control Room was from that area.

Maybe I lucked out.

Hi, Poppy.




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