-verse. I really need to determine what I am doing with these letters and snippets. Put them together, obviously but because they're broken up and so small, I feel odd doing it.
I'll....I don't know. Do something with them. I love the crew though, even if i still have little to no idea what the fuck I am doing with the plot other than 'They go on a road trip, they set free saints trapped in human shells. They make it to the Jamboreee, Winter gets a place to fit in'.
There are no guidebooks on how to mourn for yourself, there's no Chicken Soup For the Recently Deceased Soul.
There's no direction, no help, no nothing. You're left scrambling and scraping by, praying to whatever the fuck might be out there that you're doing things right and someone won't come and shoot you in the face because of what you are.
I thought being genderqueer was hard. This is worse.
I stole a book today, a blank notebook to write3 down,...whatever comes into my head. I'm probably going to lose it but I don't care. I feel like i need to write it down, work it out. Do something with the thoughts in my head, otherwise my brain is going to explode.
I need someone to tell me what to do, someone to tell me how to feel, because I am so, so lo9st right now. I'm confused and I'm tired and I'm dirty and I'm lost.
I go to sleep at night, wherever the hell I can find a place to sleep, and I have to tell myself that I am allowed to be here, that somewhere, Death isn't pitching a fit because I'm not in his hands anymore.
But then again, maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe Death doesn't give two shits about me and I'm giving myself too much credit. I don't even know.
All I know is that I'm confused, I'm scared, and as much as I don't want my story to end, I think it was supposed to in an alley not far away from here, with blood and pain and more hatred than I know what to do with.