FUCK.
FUCK.

FUCK.

FUCK.

FUCK.

I didn’t know where I was supposed to go.

I didn’t know where to start looking, because the shitty sand was gone.

Our forest was gone.

The meadows had vanished.

She wasn’t at the stupid glass wall—she wasn’t where I left her.

Because I left her.

This joke hanging around me, this thing that was supposed to be funny but not funny at the same time—well, I’m done with it. It’s not a joke anymore. There’s nothing humorous about it—it’s not funny anymore, I’m done. I get it. I’ll stop. Maybe it was a joke when someone wasn’t at stake—maybe it was okay for me to fuck up, since no one got hurt in the process. I kept myself nameless. I kept my shittiness out the equation like it would change something, like it wouldn’t matter that I was shitty because no one was getting hurt by it and everyone could go about their merry fucking lives without a glance in my direction because it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

And I can’t keep telling myself that because it’s isn’t true, it was never true but I didn’t know it and didn’t try to know it and look, now look, look what’s happening—the world is turning dark and everything’s starting to smell like hog-butts all over the place and shit’s going down and Jiji’s somewhere right in the middle of it, exactly where I left her, and I was tearing through the rapidly descending darkness as fast as I could, zap!ing myself whenever I had enough energy, branding as stitch in my side from all the running, bawling my eyes out and screaming at the top of my lungs out of the blinding fear and searing anger that was burning me up, mocking me, totally scorching my ass and sick of things falling apart without being able to stop it.

“Jiji!! JIJI!!” I shouted, practically destroying my voice-box in the doing. I didn’t care—even if my throat burst from the shouting or my eyes fell out from all the tears gushing down unchecked, I didn’t care. “RANJIRI!!” My voice caught and things started to sting and I'm pretty sure I was tasting iron along with the salt from my eyes, but I didn't care--you hear me? I was done keeping it back. I didn’t care who saw. I was sad, dammit, and I was mad, and I was scared and whether or not it made sense for me to be sad and mad and scared, well, it was happening. It was a thing--and it was a thing that didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.

I still can’t tell you why I went to search for Jiji in the Foothills. All I knew was that she wasn’t where I left her; I had searched the salty forests long enough to miss any sign of her. And it was after I made sure she was definitely not in that area, that’s when the panic started. I totally lost it—I was still losing it as I thundered passed the familiar border, my hooves pounding down on brown, brittle grasses. Fuck courtesy, I was on a mission, and my subconscious probably lead me here because it was home base. Like in a game of tag; you got to home base to keep safe from the threat. And if Jiji was safe from the threat, she would be here. And she was safe from the threat. I know she was (even if I royally screwed her over). She was safe from the darkness—she had to be.

The alternative wasn’t an option. She was safe, dammit.

@[Ranjiri]



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