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kleenexwomanI have a new favorite fan-crack community. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
muse_secrets is really quite addictive. It's based on Post Secrets, a site I'd send something to if I had any worthwhile secrets. (Well...maybe I do. I'll have to see.) The concept reminds me a lot of the A Softer World webcomic.
I've already made five cards, all from different fandoms. Go check 'em out. I'm proud of the way most of them turned out, especially because I only have Paint to work with. (Ooh, and I figured out how to do alt-tags. Yay me!)
Sleeping in the middle of the day isn't a good thing for me. I wake up with a head full of fuzz and can't remember where I or what time it is. I go into sleep paralysis and can't move. The best thing, of course, is that I have some really fucked-up dreams.
The reset was upon us. There had been a countdown going for days. Nothing official, no huge digital clock in Times Square or colorbar on CNN, but everyone still knew, somehow.
Most people were just treating it as another apocalypse. I saw them gathering in bars drinking their last, or hurrying on one last errand, trying to go on with their lives as though nothing were going to happen. Some people were excited; I saw them gathering in little groups, talking about how their lives would be different, the plans to make things better the last time around. Their enthusiasm was contagious. I caught myself wondering if I'd remember anything at all.
A girl pushed a tract into my hand. "Stop the reset," she said. "All you need to do is accept Jesus." I nodded to her and let the tract slip out of my hand. The religious groups were saying that it was a second Great Flood, that God was so displeased with His creation that He was actually erasing it and starting over. Scientists thought it was a natural phenomena, a Vonnegut time-slip or just the universe reaching its natural limit and starting to contract.
I felt personally responsible. There was something I hadn't done right. Someone I hadn't apologized to or told that I loved, some book I had never read or a poem I'd never written, something broken that I hadn't fixed, something living I hadn't killed, some task left unfinished or done badly. Some little thing, insignificant but nevertheless the crux of existence, without which the universe could not go on.
Not that I cared enough to change it. What's done, I had often told myself, was done, and what's undone will never be done. If the universe was so shaky that it relied on tiny human me, then that was its own fault. I could hardly be blamed for not anticipating disaster.
It was an excuse. I was lazy. I would rather see the world end than serve it that way. I didn't tell anyone else. What would they have done?
Five years, five days, five minutes. The universe was waiting, waiting for a sign from me, waiting to see if I wanted it to go on. I didn't move. Let it end.
Maybe, next time around, things would be different.
muse_secrets is really quite addictive. It's based on Post Secrets, a site I'd send something to if I had any worthwhile secrets. (Well...maybe I do. I'll have to see.) The concept reminds me a lot of the A Softer World webcomic. I've already made five cards, all from different fandoms. Go check 'em out. I'm proud of the way most of them turned out, especially because I only have Paint to work with. (Ooh, and I figured out how to do alt-tags. Yay me!)
Sleeping in the middle of the day isn't a good thing for me. I wake up with a head full of fuzz and can't remember where I or what time it is. I go into sleep paralysis and can't move. The best thing, of course, is that I have some really fucked-up dreams.
The reset was upon us. There had been a countdown going for days. Nothing official, no huge digital clock in Times Square or colorbar on CNN, but everyone still knew, somehow.
Most people were just treating it as another apocalypse. I saw them gathering in bars drinking their last, or hurrying on one last errand, trying to go on with their lives as though nothing were going to happen. Some people were excited; I saw them gathering in little groups, talking about how their lives would be different, the plans to make things better the last time around. Their enthusiasm was contagious. I caught myself wondering if I'd remember anything at all.
A girl pushed a tract into my hand. "Stop the reset," she said. "All you need to do is accept Jesus." I nodded to her and let the tract slip out of my hand. The religious groups were saying that it was a second Great Flood, that God was so displeased with His creation that He was actually erasing it and starting over. Scientists thought it was a natural phenomena, a Vonnegut time-slip or just the universe reaching its natural limit and starting to contract.
I felt personally responsible. There was something I hadn't done right. Someone I hadn't apologized to or told that I loved, some book I had never read or a poem I'd never written, something broken that I hadn't fixed, something living I hadn't killed, some task left unfinished or done badly. Some little thing, insignificant but nevertheless the crux of existence, without which the universe could not go on.
Not that I cared enough to change it. What's done, I had often told myself, was done, and what's undone will never be done. If the universe was so shaky that it relied on tiny human me, then that was its own fault. I could hardly be blamed for not anticipating disaster.
It was an excuse. I was lazy. I would rather see the world end than serve it that way. I didn't tell anyone else. What would they have done?
Five years, five days, five minutes. The universe was waiting, waiting for a sign from me, waiting to see if I wanted it to go on. I didn't move. Let it end.
Maybe, next time around, things would be different.
