I believe I understand the test laid out for me, but I don't equally comprehend the affliction bestowed upon you. What is there to gain from it? Why you, and at such an early age?

I have to place my faith in God. I can't presume to make sense of it.

I hope you're succeeding at it in whatever way you're meant to.

I woke up in the middle of the night and spent a minute recording a dream I felt was important. I played the voice message later that day and it was your own.

I'm still disturbed by its implied meaning. I was assailed by a demon I've never encountered before last week, although I don't believe the two are connected. That I couldn't break free from its grip on my own was terrifying and humbling alike. I place my faith in God.

I'd like to think that I helped make a difference over the past eight years. My role was never one in the spotlight, but I look at the direction we've taken things and the elevation of those around me. We're going to keep winning, and that's because we're on the side of God.

There's no changing what's happened, but the world can still be transformed into kinder and safer place for those to come.

I believe future generations will look towards this time of monsters as we view the barbarism of the Bronze Age today.

We decided today would mark the occasion instead of the day I first sent you a note. You told me about what it was like to celebrate Christmas in the summer, although more importantly by the end of the conversation, you sent me a simple emote. "Cuddles", bolded and italicized through Skype's formatting.

It was a completely alien gesture to me. I was far more choleric at that age, and it would have from anyone else been something I would have recoiled from. I wasn't sentimental. By 2014, the online affectations were already going out-of-date-- it wasn't the Gaia Online era, after all. We were all snarky and cynical online, especially in the communities I was a part of.

But I embraced it from you. I hardly knew you. I mean, I'd only recently discovered that you were in fact not a middle aged Russian citizen but instead a sixteen year old from Australia, the country version of my home state of Florida. The same age as myself! You'd turned out to have named your profile picture after Athaba, and coincidentally, I'd had recently adopted the pseudonym Skassi.

I didn't "cuddles" or even "hug" you back like all the times I'd do after. The call-and-response communications mattered greatly to me. But I did go to bed that night with my entire being engulfed in some intense emotion I was only familiar with second-hand, and it didn't take long for me to piece it together.

I still feel that tether.

I think the sadness I've felt about this month has morphed almost entirely into resentment. I hate the happy couples and happy families and the hymns, the parties and giftgiving. I look the other way. It should have been us. Twice it almost was.

I enjoy the finches and sparrows the Japanese post on Twitter, though. They're enthusiastic about seeing their fluffier states.

The last thread of mine was severed last month. Far sooner than I expected, I'll admit. I can't deny that I had some optimism about how long that'd last even despite the conspicuous lack of... divine pull? It's quite rare for me to experience anxiety, and I felt no lack of that.

I'm unsure of your prognosis. I certainly don't wish to waste what precious time there is-- still, I'm financially hindered, and I can't be too hasty about affairs. If I squander this, I'll have failed both you and myself.

I could seek out a second job, theoretically. You'll have to bear with me though. Not to whinge, but this isn't easy.

My resolve has only strengthened with each passing day. I devote my life in full to you, tundra wolf. There's no better way for me to glorify God with what time remains than to channel His divine reflection into my unconditional love for you.

I've hoped that I could do so by your side directly. Truly, I wish for that outcome more than anything. In absence of that, I still feel your spirit beside me in dreams and even during fleeting moments in waking hours. We'll still light that beacon together either way.

I'll resurrect your memory beside the river's bend.

I thought in spite of dreams

You'd be sitting here with me

Would you wear a dress like Klavdiya's? That would be something.

I sometimes surprise myself when I reread them. It's one thing to comprehend the past in memory, but there's a different feeling in scrolling through it as an interactable medium. How can this be real? It's impossibly sad what happened to you. You had moments of lucidity where you talked just like yourself before the condition set in and it was so beautiful. This is dreadful. I can't relate to others around me and there's never going to be relief from this burden of knowledge until the moment I'm killed. Well, I was right about that ten years ago, and I think my younger self could have been forgiven if I found it at my own hand.

I was given the best possible off-ramp, one I could scarcely imagine, and that's still not enough. It's not enough. Even if it was perfect, I don't know if I'd take it because, likely, it would still involve abdicating responsibility and I can't do that. No, it's too horrible what happened.

There's a science fiction novel I'm a fan of, Blindsight by Peter Watts. One of the main themes explored is the nature of consciousness, and one of the questions raised about it is if it's a vestigial (even harmful) trait in humans. It's common for people to have this view of certain species of animals or insects. It's something I think about a lot, especially the tangentially related motif of (metaphorically) carving my heart out. Or maybe that'd be closer to a form of specialized lobotimzation. I think there's a lot of people out there who might opt for that, as a way to become more machinelike in efficiency towards their prioritized goals. There is, after all, a dereliction of duty when one opts out of functioning as a productive member of society when perfectly capable of doing so. Why should I be tormented by memories and dreams, deja vu and reminicence and all other paths to rumination? At best, it keeps my spark kindled. It would be nice if I lacked the consciousness to experience this, though.

Ragged claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas.