Sigh...

I just wish I knew more people who like and grew up with these 6.5/10 type games. I personally like these designs a lot, but somehow they never seemed 'weird' enough to me, considering what they do and what they're supposed to be. Why does every mutant in that game look like a buff dood, even the single (supposedly) female-only species!?

This one's a concept sketch of Shellephant I tried out, having this idea in my head for a while now.

My personal headcanon with making it ([again,] supposedly) more crab-like, is the idea that Shellephant are actually pretty serene titans in their natural habitat, that being bodies of water such as waterfalls and fresh water beaches. The best visual reference I can think of is this:

In order to actually use them for battle or generally piss them off, you have to take away to the driest possible places... such as the game's lumber yard!

I actually sketched them bathing and breathing bright fire bubbles, just enjoying their time alive as a freak o' nature.

They have crab eyes too! They retract when dry and angry.

In practice, or what for seems to be the case for overthinking people, it's really hard to tell love apart from projection. Say, is it REAL love or is it just a thing you want to ha e, want to try it out for yourself?

This question's been pestering me brains a bunch for about two weeks now. It never feels like I can reciprocate anybody else's feelings and everyone I've ever met and enjoyed being around was by complete accident, specially on their end. Feeling this alien around everyone and anyone is usually a good thing, a great source of wonder for the eyes of you and your inner child. Like living everyday as if you'd be dead by midnight without the dreadful bit.

And about that second part, what's the problem of wanting to see how it would be? Trying out how it would feel to kiss that person, regardless of anything?

Thinking so much about this made me think of a metaphor for how and why I love the person who kept me up so many nights with and without her presence. She reminds me of the first time a pigeon ate from my hands for the first time, after so long carrying corn seeds(?) around and handing it to a bunch at the bus terminal alone. I can't help (supposedly) falling in love with people who seem to trust me and I relate to, for that seems to be rarer and rarer and I don't know why. I hate to break people's trust on me and I will take everything so seriously and react like the imagined best way possible, everything to ensure somebody can always trust me... regardless of anything.

Though in actuality, what I really wanted to talk about here, is the day I think I felt and found out what true love was like.

There was this time I sat down at a stairway where I used to live by. You know, the type murderous clowns like to dance down on?

I don't know where it came from but I had a baby spider on me. I thought that bugs and related tiny things weren't able to experience more in their brains than instinctive reactions, like reptiles or just crocodiles. But this spider wouldn't let go of me. Maybe the fact that I didn't really wanted to shake it off violently like most normals do had an influence, but then it started to walk all over me. I do know that, (like everything) in my head, it was fond of me and we begun to play. And we just enjoyed each other for over an hour, until I was able to get it to my thumb and leave it to a random bush.

This is my best reference on what true love is like.

"How much of what I want to say and act on is, if not objectively right or necessary, harmless enough that I can be entitled to?"

This thought eats away my brain and ability to be at peace with myself just like a worm.

I have been sailing for the last few months on these uncharted waters of life, and I like to seem to myself I am finally becoming able to. The deep dark sea I look below shows me a better view of the stars above.

It has been two days since I have decided to skip the last two diary entries in my actual diary, and this here day felt special enough for me to decide and write the first part of it here and share with you.

It is been the first time in my life that I felt like my body just refuse to react in sync with my mood, something that I have only ever understood as horrible, since I have only ever felt it before as a collateral effect of medicine made for soothing me brain.

This time, it felt good. I am happy, but my body does not show it.

What made me think about this was waking up like shit in the morning and noticing I could see the sunlight move from my bed.

"Hey! I can see the day going by!"

Then I wondered what else could that imply about myself.

Ever since I started working as a "storage goblin", 6-days a week for soon-to-be an year, time became my nemesis. I constantly must think about time, over the feeling that I have no choice but to live for my job and nothing else, as I only think about how I have to work the day after when I have a day off, and paralyze the rest of the day over that.

I grew to hate many aspects about the flow of my life, like the need to sleep, no matter how hard I try to sleep early... getting home by 11pm every day.

"So, what'll it be: are you sleeping tonight at 2 deliberately or accidentally?"

"Who knows, this time if you miraculously get to bed, you might wake up at 4 and stay in bed for hours again!"

So I guess today worked as a reminder. A reminder about what will soon be of my life, or would be have I not bought a new bike, and did not remember the two-year long credit fuck my grandmother got me.

As much as I consider my life to be uneventful, I love how easy it is for me to find wonder in anything that happens to me every day of my present life, from strangers making me feel avenged to bees making me feel pardoned.

I consider every day of my life worth starting a diary for.

Yet I never do.

These present moments feel more like "yestermorrow" to me now, for I don't know at what point in time I am, but I sure as well know it isn't today.

Every time I escape my routine and get to rest home, some small bits of reality don't add up until I notice them by coincidence, things I call hiccups.

When I think about my memories...

It's very hard to know for sure what my exact age, or anything else to that matter, was at that perceived time.

Everything is but raw feelings.

I know of this lemon tree we used to have in our yard before everything was cemented. Its fruit was few and feeble, and it only grew weaker as time went on. I don't think I ever ate any of its lemons, ever.

I don't remember when it was cut down, made its uselessness official.

I don't remember if I saw it happening.

I like to think I've washed my hair with its fruit at least once.

I'd love to have one right above me after a green funeral.

Like this has ever happened.

I used this website for it!

A quarter to four in the morning, I woke myself up as I felt synchronized with my earthly form through a direct, deliberate action in my dream that basically handled me the remote control.

In moments of triumph, all I can feel is regret, cringing at the idea of having an ego, even just minimal enough to recognize my basic needs.

The patterns I see in my recurring dreams, as I dream them, is the ambivalence of clarity absolutely everything has.

I am a hero, though not really.

I am on an urgent mission, though seconds feel like minutes, and minutes like hours.

I have a very fast lady as a companion, and she is shrouded bythe ways she was supposed to look like.

10 wolf pearls through a wide and seemingly endless road is what I must collect... for something. Most of the time the only thing I can say to know for sure is that I have pearls, and said fast lady has their own paraphernalia to catch.

But I have this recurring character I see the face perfectly and not at all, both at the same time, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

She's my antagonist, with the closest description being a brunette Penny Carter in a ticket clerk outfit. Hell, she could be related to Margaret or Elizabeth, I wouldn't be sure. I can't never be sure.

Throughout all of these dreams, she is manipulating everything for she was the one that started my quest through these dreamscapes that look an awful lot like the game ClusterTruck, except the truck. Thought tonight I was indeed riding a huge one looking for the last orb to bring to her.

And I always come back the same way. Through completely spontaneous means, I always see myself hanging out of the side of a small bus she is driving; she disguises herself as a bus driver, and she always gets pissed off when she sees me just above her head. It always means I have won today's challenge.

And we would always have this talk, about how much she loved to be above me and knew everything I would or could do, finding new ways to her perfect prison adapt more and more to everything I do, going back on every prize and chance to leave, save the world, cure a family's illness or whatever the fuck.

In her words, she wants to do this so she doesn't have to be so active about it anymore. Probably wanting to live her facade life as a bus driver and parking valet.

The location where all this "dream-end" happens is also very important, since together with the strong feelings of knowing her from the earthly side of the world, I know for sure we always go to where I used to live, the parking lot to an English school right next to my old apartment. She would do everything through and behind an entrance desk that didn't look but did felt makeshift.

This time I was the one beyond pissed, which for me is at least ironic. I grew sick of her "end of episode" monologues and just flipped the desk and started looking for a button or anything that would allow her to create these challenges, as she would flip out and scream, trying to understand where did that attitude come from.

Almost in what felt like all fours, I got to her shoulders and pushed her back further down the parking lot. She wasn't scared, or angry anymore.

I wanted to talk about how or if she remembers me from when I was a kid, as vividly as I did back then. How much I grew attached to her ever since the first day she gave me a nickname and I asked for hers.

"I am not your damn mother!"

— No, not like that! — I said, as I was just as ready to eat her up right there and then.

I don't remember what she said exactly, but her words were of perfect, reciprocal intensity and love, as we kissed and hugged each other's heads like we were about to force our molecules into fusing together.

It was at the moment we kissed that I had this shock in the back of my head, instantly 'remembering' me that I was asleep somewhere, with the only other detail being how immediate she got me... ready for action, for lack of better term.

I kid you not it was really that fast. It being everything that happened, but one thing:

The realization. Letting go of this yet another love of my life embracing me, and staring right into its inconceivable eyes.

When I was ready to be in charge of my actions, my first choice was to wake up.

Chop-chop, got work to go and nowhere else to do.

Reality is subjective.

It can be modified,

taught,

and lied to.

It can be instructed, obstructed, omitted.

But none of them can be truly, universally false for everybody. Perspectives can't be blatant lies at their core to someone believing them, once they or something else managed to communicate them to you.

So what if they're a video game character? Aren't our egos all jealous that all of them had a satisfying ending to their journey and their story, while ours becomes more and more chaotic as you zoom out?

Reality is a direct product of order and harmony.

Order just also happens to be what you get when you zoom in enough in certain threads of the web of chaos.

I know it is very hypocritical, but as I am antibirth (and also a TBoIstan), I can't shake away the thought of having a daughter and how cool that would be. I've been learning about anthropology, psychology, pedagogy, sociology, philosophy, someotherbullshitology... being interested in studying people and societal roles for as far as I can remember, and been able to share my knowledge to prepare a happy child for a great future, guiding her through all hardships women face in a daily base with all the easier routes she can get... it must be an amazing life experience.

I want to give her the random prize of existence and help them with the things nobody thought me back when I needed this still growing, always present timed wisdom to be free. Though maybe they can already exist, and I could adopt one. Only a few, temporary drawbacks exist, such as me being yet only a young lad, the harsh reality and usual destinies of Brazilian foster children, and the fact I have never been into an foster home or orphanage before.

Time to wait.

Check out my bud's just finished new game!

Check their art too here.