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Post by 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘯 on May 28, 2017 16:53:08 GMT -5
here it is, a little thread all of our own!
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Post by 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘯 on May 28, 2017 17:18:51 GMT -5
hello~ c: so, where were we?
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Post by 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘯 on May 28, 2017 17:26:59 GMT -5
I think because the characters won't know each other at all, it might interesting for us to go in blind as well and see what image we can build of them as we go, but if you'd prefer descriptions upfront I'm sure that could work just as well!
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Post by 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘯 on May 28, 2017 17:37:07 GMT -5
I'm glad to hear it! we'll go in blind, then! I'm not sure how much longer I'll be around tonight, it's getting late and I have to get up early in the morning. as I understand it, you're starting, right? so I might not get you a reply until tomorrow at the earliest, depending on how much I hate myself and how long I stay up, haha
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Post by 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘯 on May 28, 2017 17:42:06 GMT -5
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Bisexual
dou
✩ no one does it better
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Post by dou on May 28, 2017 18:00:28 GMT -5
Dear Stranger,
This seems a bit silly, does it not? Someone unknown, locked away in their own thoughts, writing out their heart to someone they do not know? It seems silly, doesn't it? Well, let me tell you a little something, my little friend. We're connected through our hearts. You're a curious little soul. Picking up this piece of paper. One stuffed in the cracks of the wall. I'm beginning to see what you think of me.
'Creep.'
'Burden.'
'Crazy man.'
Secrets always have funny ways, coming out. Let me tell you a bit about myself. Why not? Take a look at this piece of paper, friend. What does it look like to you?
Old.
Tattered.
That's quite like me, you see. I'm tattered. An old soul, though only a young adult. It is I, you see. Refer to me as Secret, fellow curious friend. I'm not expecting you to respond to me, you see. Read this, laugh at the old soul writing to a complete stranger, throw away the paper. Forget about me. In fact, I hope you don't respond. You're nothing but a curious person, reading a paper. You won't respond. Heartless. Cold.
I'm desperate, aren't I? Nothing but a wolf, preying on a rabbit. Thinking about myself.
You see, writing is therapeutic. Getting out all of these thoughts. Trapped inside the head of a wolf. Surrounded by demons. You see, dear rabbit, I hope you find a way to hide. Hide from me, from yourself. Your secrets are safe with me, you see. Rabbit, take a moment.
Think about this for a second.
You're reading a note.
Left by someone you don't know.
On old paper.
Stuffed in a wall.
I could be anybody. Your best friend, your enemy. Your murderer, your lover. Who knows? I sure don't. I'm not writing for a response, dear rabbit. I'm writing for myself. To help myself release me from a horrible storm. One raging on and on in this crowded head.
Now tell me, dear rabbit. Do you feel safe? Where are you? In the street? A box? Your room? You could be anywhere reading this. And I'm sure someone, somewhere is thinking to themselves;
"Why?"
Well, because, dear rabbit. You're loved.
You're wanted.
I'm here. I know. A stranger. Someone spending their precious time to write, revise, and plan this letter. To go and stuff it in a wall. How crazy, right?
I don't think so.
I think this could help us both. Dear rabbit, please answer.
I need you.
Your words.
Your presence.
I will check back in days, waiting and waiting for somebody to pick this up. Read it. Find out that I'm crazy. I agree with you, rabbit. I'm crazy. I'm not someone you should talk to. Don't respond to this. I won't care. You don't really care, do you? Something is wrong with us.
Deceiving us. By our own thoughts.
How sad.
I'm sure you're thinking that I'm out of my mind. I'm lost. Trapped. Crazed. I need help. But can't get it. Writing this is the easiest way to help myself.
Stay away, rabbit.
Wolf is coming for you.
- Secret
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Post by 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘯 on May 29, 2017 7:03:15 GMT -5
Dear Secret,
Before I get to any of that other stuff, you should know that your pseudonym is pretentious as hell. Writing a note that screams of insanity before stuffing it into a wall is all fine and good, I mean, we've all done strange things, have we not? But signing it off with Secret? Who does that? You couldn't have chosen, like, Bob, or something? At least that way I wouldn't be addressing this letter to Secret and actually meaning it? Have some consideration for the rest of us, why don't you?
Anyway, where were we? That's right, discussing the nonsense that was your letter. I hate to poke fun at what was probably a very therapeutic exercise, but you should know that not only are you right about seeming crazy but your inability to just decide whether you wanted a response or not got very annoying very quickly. And what's with the whole wolf/rabbit thing? By all means, call yourself Wolf and Secret and Raven (I'm sure that's next, you see) but don't assign me a lame name. If I had to be some kind of prey animal, make me a good one, not an overgrown hamster with an addiction to root vegetables. I could be a deer or an elk or something. I think wolves eat those more, anyway, if that's the effect you were going for.
As Rabbit simply won't do, I've decided to give you a pretentious pseudonym of my very own. Only mine is actually a name, not a concept. Far better, I think. From now on, call me Atticus. It's a nice name and will do perfectly. I suppose I can't technically force you, but I'll do what I can.
You wanted to know where I was and how safe I felt? Well, you should know that I'm not entirely sure. About the latter, I mean, I know exactly where I am. As far as I'm concerned, you don't need to know, but I'll give you a hint. There's no wallpaper. Have fun with that one.
Now, I was going to say that you were insane, or at the very least mentally unstable, but I've come to realise that I was the one who pulled this out the wall in the first place. You say that you're crazy, but I'll raise you one better:
We're all crazy. You see, responding to your note, that's crazy.
Writing it in the first place, that's also crazy. But other things are crazy, too. Just the other day, I saw a man ask for feta cheese at my local cafe and then proceed to drop it into his coffee. Crazy. Reading your letter, I've come to believe that we're all a little bit insane. I'm not sure why or even if that's a good thing, but I think I like this new hypothesis of mine. I look forward to testing it.
~atticus
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