Post by gorgi on Mar 21, 2021 18:10:49 GMT
Viktor Glazkov
"Do you remember the happy days? It feels quite some time ago, no? Don't dwell on them."
I was only a child when the bombs fell over the world. For the last twenty years, me and my fellow countrymen lived and adapted to the Metro tunnels that ran like veins through the Moscow underground. No longer were we Russian, Ukrainian, German, American...but survivors, in a beautiful world we destroyed. I do not know if there is anyone beyond the wastelands. But, seeing such new people in a world I cannot comprehend? Fills me with confidence. And, fear. I wear this mask to remind me of home. Beneath it, another mask to hide the fact I may never well return to Polis.
Oh, blyat. I do not think I can out-survive this.
There was time when I never wanted to be back home. To be here, and ride out whatever is thrown at me. There was time when I didn't want to be friends with people here, and just keep my distance. So that I wouldn't get attached, and not want to leave. There was time where I did not feel afraid of my position. I was just a scavenger; a nobody.
As of late, I've found myself gravitating closer to these strange people. Taking up a respectable position as helping lead people. Yet, I yearn for home. This world isn't meant for me. What with the odd flashbacks and radiation sickness not going away, I want to return back to Polis.
It has been...couple months? I can no longer tell in this place. Time moves fast, yet slow at once. I feel no longer like usual self, as if resigned to a fate in a strange land I cannot comprehend. It makes me sick to stomach, knowing this. After adventures in a somewhat cozy land of make-believe and mystical wonders, I yearn further for a place I am familiar with.
I want my home back, and I will do what is must to get there. Even if I have to leave what I have here.
It has been too long, even it has not reach a quarter-year away from home. I am starting to become more distant to those I consider close friends. We all have moments of great victory and togetherness, but it's being more outweighed by the loss and broken trust. There is doubt in my heart, filling the void left over by the cancer eating away.
Perhaps it would have been best to not do anything about it. I'll do whatever it takes now, to reach home. Even if I must go against my morals.
We destroyed those who we considered our oppressors. My comrades could not be seen to reason with mercy. Perhaps we do not deserve it either.
Relationships
I've ripped the pages from this journal, leaving myself within. May it signal a change of heart, and direction. Trust must be re-rewarded.
Beta
Gamma
Omega
The final creation, destroyed. You had nearly brought me to my final breath, as with many others. Some could not live to say otherwise. We brought it on ourselves, however. I do not feel the same pang of guilt with you regardless.
Хороший райдданс
(Feel free to ask to be added.)
Oh, blyat. I do not think I can out-survive this.
There was time when I never wanted to be back home. To be here, and ride out whatever is thrown at me. There was time when I didn't want to be friends with people here, and just keep my distance. So that I wouldn't get attached, and not want to leave. There was time where I did not feel afraid of my position. I was just a scavenger; a nobody.
As of late, I've found myself gravitating closer to these strange people. Taking up a respectable position as helping lead people. Yet, I yearn for home. This world isn't meant for me. What with the odd flashbacks and radiation sickness not going away, I want to return back to Polis.
It has been...couple months? I can no longer tell in this place. Time moves fast, yet slow at once. I feel no longer like usual self, as if resigned to a fate in a strange land I cannot comprehend. It makes me sick to stomach, knowing this. After adventures in a somewhat cozy land of make-believe and mystical wonders, I yearn further for a place I am familiar with.
I want my home back, and I will do what is must to get there. Even if I have to leave what I have here.
It has been too long, even it has not reach a quarter-year away from home. I am starting to become more distant to those I consider close friends. We all have moments of great victory and togetherness, but it's being more outweighed by the loss and broken trust. There is doubt in my heart, filling the void left over by the cancer eating away.
Perhaps it would have been best to not do anything about it. I'll do whatever it takes now, to reach home. Even if I must go against my morals.
We destroyed those who we considered our oppressors. My comrades could not be seen to reason with mercy. Perhaps we do not deserve it either.
Relationships
I've ripped the pages from this journal, leaving myself within. May it signal a change of heart, and direction. Trust must be re-rewarded.
Beta
You allowed me to open up about my past. I spilled gnawing thoughts I've kept hidden for years. Although you merely wanted to learn more about emotion, you didn't judge. In return, you had gifted me prizes from my home. Relics that I couldn't posses normally. I wanted to thank you with a song. And I gave it to you, during our list visit.
Извините, пожалуйста.
Извините, пожалуйста.
We've had our fair share of good times, no? Those few times of idle banter, board games, and overall comradery. Then, you grew cold. It wasn't your fault. I remained headstrong and ignored it. The others could not. During our final meeting, my hand became forced and I struck with mercy.
Вы заслужили лучшего.
Вы заслужили лучшего.
The final creation, destroyed. You had nearly brought me to my final breath, as with many others. Some could not live to say otherwise. We brought it on ourselves, however. I do not feel the same pang of guilt with you regardless.
Хороший райдданс
(Feel free to ask to be added.)
