That which both does and does not make sense.

Guilty. Not innocent. That’s what I am. Guilty and left behind for my failures to be what I could be, had I only known my own truth. The subjective truth, that perhaps is the most objective one any of us can know, is our own truth. Someone else’s truth is inevitably biased, but our own may yet be the only truth there is.

We can’t be sure, of course, that any truth is truth, but the only facts we know are our own. And even then, in my case, I often wonder. I know I rarely make the right choice, while I also know my heart is in the right place. It may not be the right size or even temperature, but it’s not misplaced. Though I feel it’s often misjudged. Most often so by myself. I don’t know myself as well as I should, and it’s hurt me and mine in ways I can’t begin to forgive myself for.

Don’t we all live with some kind of guilt in our hearts, knowing we aren’t being who we really are, but instead cheap imitations hiding behind fears that don’t really exist outside of our heads? I wouldn’t know. But I do live that way myself, far too often. And it’s not the right way. Giving in to fear is never the right thing to do. Listening to your fears can help you, but giving into it without rational and intelligent reason is merely cowardice at its best. At its worst.

“Courage isn’t not being afraid, it’s facing your fears.” is something that could be considered common knowledge, almost. But what’s oft forgotten is that every one of us, by that definition, can be courageous. To at least one person, be it yourself or someone else, you may even be a hero, in your own way.

Will you let your chances slip away because you’re afraid of things that may never happen? I know I’ve done so far too often.

There’s one promise I did make you, you know, and that was to never give up on you. And I’m keeping that promise. Beyond reason, perhaps, but it’s a promise I made and meant, and so I’m bound to keep it until my own existence has been long-forgotten.

You’re the only family I ever truly had. The simple thought that I’m not alone in this world gave me more pleasure than any other thing, and that’s a memory that will stay with me forever, even if you’ve moved on.

Whatever the future may bring me, the past has given me a gift I’ll always cherish, because any orphan knows that family is everything, and you’re the only family I’ve ever had.

It hurts to have your family torn away from you, especially the way it happened with us. And it’s still tearing away at me even now, every day, but I’m keeping my promise to never give up trying to find you again, no matter what.

Even if you hate me for it. No matter what.

I promised.

Teddy Bruisepaw,
Orphan only in fact.

A subtle mix of runes and technology, with just a hint of my own madness to put it all together. That’s the source of my particular brand of magic, and I found it to be superior to any other kind out there. So far, at least. A lot could be done with a bit of creativity, after all. I’d proven that much in my time.

The masters of the arcane arts are more painters than scientists, but they’re equally effective in their own way. Myself, I’m just an engineer, a builder of machines covered in large amounts of quirky scribbling as my trademark. Scribbling that would change the very nature of my toys as well as my more volatile contraptions.

The way I went about using and abusing Magic was a careful mix of artistry, science and simple entrepreneurship. My glyphs and runes are always, always hand-drawn onto whatever object in need of just that extra bit of power to do whatever it is that needs to be done. Be it killing hundreds of vicious creatures, or just plain amusing a child for a minute or two. This world doesn’t deserve anything less than the best, good or bad, because it really is one of the worst out there.

Sure, there’s plenty of good to be found if you know just where to look, but you’d have to look long and hard to find anything at all worth smiling about, except perhaps in grim satisfaction at a job well done. And I did my job damn well indeed.

I’m still alive, aren’t I?

Sanity, sweet sanity… They say not to gape into your maw, because infinity might stare back. Perhaps this is isn’t even true, but you’re a precious gift like a white horse for a valiant knight of truth.

We often ask ourselves why the world is as it is, but then we recall the things that never made any sense, that shouldn’t be nor could even be if the universe made sense. So we ignore its flaws and return to sanity’s gleaming eyes, ignoring the maw just below, so inviting, so threatening.

Because, as it were, we’re fickle creatures destined to never fear or worry that the lies we tell ourselves are lies at all. The sincerity of a thought doesn’t make it truth itself, not until proven right time and time again.

Every test is one of sanity against insanity, and we’ll always tell ourselves sanity conquers all, but we need only think of love to know this shall never be true, as emotion is by definition a lack of sanity, rationality.

Staring into the maw of the monster we call reality will cost us our sanity. But what sanity is there in a universe where sanity is by nature self-deception?

~ Filix Garnesworth, My Memories of Living