I’m letting it seep into me, the Taken magic. There is need for respite. It’s difficult letting the moments pass, immersing myself in virtual Destiny, but we all must do what is best for us at this point, suffered at the hands of our lost causes as we are.
The dog died, not mine but a friend’s. Major conflicts of the interweaving storylines, like Piper’s pneumonia or Lilli’s void space ledge leaning. I’m in shatters. It’s the same thing that I’ve been fighting for a while and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.
This game playing, It’s just like drinking or smoking or doing opiate. These visions that swim in front of my eyes. Hallucination. The Traveler is evil. I’m reading about it in books. That’s why we’ve got our sites set on home. The depression sets in once the game turns off. Instant withdrawal. All the dirty dishes coming to the forefront of my vision. The dog scratching at his stomach, a sign of his necessary bathroom functions. The e-cigarette almost out of juice. I get the first taste of possible coil replacement necessity. Always with the cash, the lifeblood of this city. Not even cash. Money. Got to keep it pumping. In and out. Veins and arteries. Food and shit.
Boy, I say to my dog as he’s staring into his liquor cabinet reflection. Don’t be staring into that. It’s void space. Let’s get out of that headspace of which the only reason I left was because Grimro got off.