Connections to Places That Don't Exist

Part ways all you want, you'll eventually meet again, guided by the waves...

Things happen every day. Things occur, and they steer you and me on paths aligned, intertwined, and then falling away forever. An endless line of string that guides me towards a fate I'm sure was designed from a very long time ago, one I'll be forced through until the very end, and one I'm not looking forward to.

But that's things we all knew a long time ago. However, unless you pay attention to the status.cafe widget or perhaps my other website or even know me outside of "the one guy who runs feelingmachine" (god forbid), this string of fate has led to me caring very suddenly and heavily once more for what this website would not exist without, an old domain name, a fragile centrality.

In other words, I've been fixating on Cookie Run again recently, the story of Sugarteara still just as vivid, enough to chime into my very heart, lead it towards the path I've wanted to take all this time -- a life controlled by nothing more than the love I felt for the world around me, the people I care for, a love that my God had taught me so long ago. I can only hope it reaches out. I can only hope what love I have poured into artwork, this very writing, this website, touches somebody, makes them feel some sort of grand emotion. It could be anything, and I'd say "I've done my work here," my goal is to make you feel something. The feeling machine wants you to live emotionally!

And this love I felt could not be any more stated than the love I hold for a place that I will never see again, only in dreams, the thoughts, the thoughts that I carry around every day and all day with me, a mourning knight -- the city of Sugarteara. That is the place I had held with such longing, with appreciation, beauty, acceptance that I had become a part of it and it had, in turn, become a part of myself, sugar crystals encompassing the heart.

And thus, it dawned onto me once I had refocused myself onto Cookie Run as a game, and Sugarteara as a place, that this love I held for a place nonexistant here was something I had never felt to anywhere I had actually been. My own country. My heritage. Unmentioned here for, well, reasons obvious to the meaning of this. I felt nothing towards it. Espessially now -- the horrors my country committed against anything that stood against it, the more I learned, the more I grew to reject it. Not to say that I am somehow too pure or good to be here -- I'm really not. However, I could no longer call myself somebody who felt like they were proud to be from this place.

It meant nothing to me. And thus, over the past few weeks, I had wondered if it was possible for my own purposes, to throw that past heritage away. To embrace what I had felt since we still had COVID-19 in our minds and lungs was to write my own future, break apart for even a short moment from the strings of fate that brought me along waves, tsunamis, drowned me, to be able to call myself none other than Sugartearan. Something I had fought for, lost for, lost, mourned, grieved. I was none other than Sugartearan in my heart and soul, but the body is truly rejectable. No harm is caused by doing this, after all. To be free is to not be afraid that the actions I take will make others, well, mad at me.

I am no stranger to "Are you mad at me?" syndrome.

"I'm being cringe, aren't I?" syndrome.

The only cure is to stomp it like a bug. But even bugs don't deserve that, only to be freed outside from the interior they had mistakenly flew into. To free myself was to fly with the bugs, to become one with the world I had truly embraced once more.

By now you're probably well aware, and if not, I do indeed have to smack you around a little bit for it. This is obvious fictionkin-related woe-ing. To call myself by a fictional city's heritage is inherently esoteric, if not neurotic, but again, my choice to make, and if one is to take some sort of stance to it, then I guess...uh...cope? Not my issue at that point.

To be Sugartearan is to love this world around me, more than anything else it could stand for. This city was built from the sorrows shed from love. To love is to suffer. To suffer is to love. To be Sugartearan is accepting the suffering from love is not to be fought. You can co-exist with it. Break away from the black waters the hatred that seems to power this physical world, fight the destiny made for you. I'll be free like this. I'll free myself if it means it'll kill me.

I've always been Sugartearan, even. Until I die, I'll be Sugartearan. But for now, I mark this some sort of grand revival of it all.