A Self-Study Within A Broken Mind

Weeks later, away from Lila and the untethered space, I felt distant. It started with editing, hopeful of the brutal story of death thanks to a suffering writer, but that idea relied on the deaths of characters. Soon enough into writing, I started thinking just how much I did not want them to die, and while some could enjoy the struggle, many would not enjoy this endless killing of the main characters in various strange circumstances. It was an idea, like many which lived in the void, sourced exactly there for both the portraits and the stories Harry wrote. After that drive to edit and complete that dark story faded, I disappeared into work unrelated to writing. I was not sure how many days had passed since I left the three of them, but I missed their happiness. I wanted to recharge. I entered the untethered space through the little room below the library again, creating a spiral staircase near the windows connecting the two. While I could just float up and through the divide, I decide...

I had been trying really hard to have something else going on during my nights, to avoid coming back there again. I had no control over my body, no freedom of creationism I often escaped into. I was no longer a god of a tiny universe left behind following Rebecca’s escape. Whenever I came back now, I would be a passenger to the child named Tarne, a girl that I wanted to be deep down. Maybe that kept me coming back, the possibility to feel that I was born correctly. In reality, I bought female yoga underwear, and whenever I felt I deserved to, I would clean my body with perfumed soap and wear the pink softness. They were a prize I have not felt worthy of lately. I kept them sealed in an airtight plastic bag to keep brand new and fresh. I knew if they somehow got dirty, I could not possibly bring them to the laundry. They lived one life for a person hidden away within a fake world inside his head. I arrived as Tarne again to a sight I did not expect. Lila was entirely naked, legs spread ...