Flamewalker Ⓥ Ⓐ

Where do you go, when you can't stay but you also can't make yourself leave? I don't know how to be in this world. It's never been for me. I just turned 30 this year, and I've had 15 years of this. Fighting and fighting, to get a little hint of good, a taste of being okay. It's not enough.

@summereternal.com 🔥🔥🔥 So excited! 🔥🔥🔥 And quite fitting thematically to the other 3 art pieces on top 😎🫡

This entire endeavor is a testament to that first art pieces' statement: they will indeed *never* keep up with that passion, and all the love and joy we create!🔥

Flamewalker Ⓥ Ⓐ reposted

House House

@househouse.com

An explanation on why Big Walk isn't available on Xbox. bigwalk.game/xbox

Flamewalker Ⓥ Ⓐ reposted

SUMMER ETERNAL

@summereternal.com

31 July

As of this week, the Summer Eternal Anthology Volume One is officially in print! The final draft of the Anthology is 500 pages long, meaning that our first print run will produce a staggering *two and a half million pages*.

Flamewalker Ⓥ Ⓐ reposted

SUMMER ETERNAL

@summereternal.com

9 July

Some of our first Anthology printing proofs, hot off the press on Munken Pure Rough paper for exquisite handfeel. Designed by the paper perverts at @peregrinecoast.press. ❤️‍🔥

I hope it gets better. It needs to get better. It just has to. Maybe tomorrow will be better. There is a chance. There is the potential, I loathe to say it. Maybe one of these days I'll be glad to have made it this far.

And then, even just for a moment— I'll feel okay. I'll be okay. I don't need to be happy or fulfilled. I'll just be okay. It'll all be okay.

Maybe we can enact change. Maybe we can carve out livable spaces and not get squeezed until we're husks. Maybe. I have no choice but to believe it. For all my cynicism towards myself, there is, underneath it all, such a pure-hearted optimism. It's precisely the thing that breaks me, repeatedly.

I have no choice. I'll wake up tomorrow, and I'll spend another day here, and be so miserable, that I can barely breathe. But I'll do it. And it seems like I'll keep doing it. Might aswell. The air is still sweet in my lungs. I'm still clinging onto this life.

I'm not sure there is anything anyone can do. Because I seem incapable—and truly no one can do it, fix me for me. I don't know what the future holds. And I can't count on it, so it doesn't really matter. It's a surreal existence. I don't feel real half the time.

I'm just talking to the nothingness and no one in particular. I'm used to it. None of this is new to me. I just wish I had a different story to tell. I don't know, maybe I get to have some good chapters soon. Maybe more than a paragraph or two and page at most.

And by all means I should have been lucky. I got all the privilege I needed. Plenty of opportunity. But the exact right things went wrong at just the right time, I guess—and the little pressure I faced made me cave in, and I never recovered. I'm still nursing those wounds.

At least I can say that I tried. Not all the time, and I've been giving up more and more. But I'm still here, and I'm fighting for something. I wish it wasn't just to survive and I could fight the bigger fight. Maybe someday. Maybe when I'm older. Maybe I get to get there.

So here I am. So many options wasted and exhausted, yet plenty still available if I'm honest. But I'm running on fumes for years now. And I am stuck with myself. I just want to be okay again. Not even good, just okay. I wish I could just make that happen.

Things don't get better. They just change. The world just looks different. I just look different. I don't change. Not in meaningful ways. Not at my core. Those closely held beliefs about myself and the world or my place in it. I am who I am. A thoroughly broken person.

I'm just waiting to get to be done. Another few laps around the sun maybe. There isn't much left in me to keep fighting. It's getting unbearable. And in an untenable system. I don't even know what's keeping me here besides guilt.

I so wish I could live up to my potential. I heard that word a lot in my life. At every junction people want me to be something greater than that which I currently am. And I truly wish that was me. I just don't want or need much. A little life. That's all. But I don't manage even that.

Ever since I'd been teenager, I was looking forward to getting older. I had hopes, that 5, 10, 15 years from now/then I would have figured it out. I used to dream of that life. Small. A few people. But full. Kindness, friendship, togetherness, community, trust.

With purpose and meaning attached. To those very people. But I can neither be with, nor without people. Maybe I just haven't found those alleged-to-be-existing "my people". In the end it's all the same. I don't feel at home in this world. And I don't see that changing.