netherworldpost:

netherworldpost:

i pause and stare and then pull back my hair

i pick up a lollipop and stir the root beer float

i look you in the eye with a coldness and cruelty and joy and love that cannot be contained with soft language

Do the weird thing that makes your soul glow or it will fucking kill you. Possibly literally. Even if you physically survive, you will not feel alive until you start doing the weird thing that makes your soul glow.

Make up.

Not make up.

Clothing. Nudity.

Art. Cooking. Dancing weird. Choosing the book that others would not. Writing letters. Writing fiction. Lore. More.

I awoke from a nightmare and I felt the moon touch my face with two glowing hands as she lay in the air suspended above me. “What was the first lesson I taught you?”

“Oh”

“Yes. You’ll be fine. But you have to.”

I would have apologized by she kissed me into silence and then disappeared with the sound of twilight turning over.

Do the thing.
That makes your soul glow.
Or it will.
Fucking.
Kill you.

I was awoken to tell you this, remind you of this.

There is.
No time limit.
But.
If you can start now.
It’ll be best.

If not now, soon.

Good morning.

No.

I am a creature haunted and cursed.

This is what I do,
this is why I am here.

Not for you, specifically.
But also not just for myself, exclusively.

Cheers.

May the work be challenging and enjoyable.