Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Within The Void

There are several boroughs, minature states if you will, that make up London. In one particular part of this capital city, are three hills that overlook a motorway, a roundabout and in the horizon, the top of Wembley stadium. Along the horizon, there are many houses and lamposts, which signifys the very epitome of this great city; and if you were to stand at the top of one of these hills, on a rain filled windy day, it would feel like the world is trying to blow you from it's perch. The feeling of these pearly, droplets of water that have descended from the clouds above is the closest experience that I have ever felt. It's almost like the pressure of the world wears down your clothes and body. Of course, I know that this is the effect of my clothes becoming waterlogged, but the metaphor seemed appopirate. For many years, I used to venture along the roundabout center perched on a raise, concrete platform that leads in different directions. There is a subway that leads into the path that will take you up to these hills, which then breaks off to a park from which people can play on the various sets of swings and climbing apparatus or the various ramps that make up the area from which you can skateboard.

It is the center of these three hills that I choose to be my favorite out of all of them. It is taller, allowing more definition over the urban landscape that my greyish, green eyes look upon. It also has a man made path that wings around, unlike the other two, which is merely a steep climb up or down. Various wooden benches were build into the metal cages that contain white rocks, which give it an artistic effect, whilst at the same time, adding structural support to it's structure. At the top of the center hill are various, smaller like rocks. It is my belief that they were going to plan grass or a type of flooring to make it smooth, but they never got around to it. Grass litters the various intersections between the walls and at the top it is no different.

There is a certain smell that I can recall, along with a certain feeling that I have not felt for several years. It is a blissful experience to be able to be with another individual and not have to make the small conversation that we Humans participate in to avoid the awkwardness that befalls one another when there is nothing to talk about. When you have that particular type of silence where a conversation is unnecessary, whether the subject be small talk such as, "How are you?" and "How is this person?" or something important such as, "Did you find what you were looking for?" and so forth. The smell of the room, the feeling that becomes me, the silence that ensues. I am at peace, here in this time and I miss it so.

So I find myself sitting on the same spot that we sat upon nearly seven years ago. My eyes are overlooking the landscape. Today, it is raining and the air is full of gust, filled winds. It is a storm. My body is numb due to the effects of the water that is falling and the air that is battering me. It doesn't help that I am sitting on a hard, cage like structure full of rocks. But it is our place and I have been sat here for a while now, watching. You see, I am trying to create the same effects of the day that I have thought about since I fell. I can feel my hands grasping at thin air, trying to catch the feeling, the silence, the comfort that I felt when I was with her. Again, the metaphor seems appopirate.

You see, I am in the void. It is a metaphorical existence from which the soul lays within. Throughout the day and night, the physical body tranverses through life, it's fingers touching, it's nose smelling, it's eyes seeing, it's ears hearing, it's mind experiencing. This is our corporeal experience and this is how an Human, an animal, an insect encounters various points in time that teaches us them how to do this and how to do that. My fingers have touched, my nose had smelled, my ears have heard and my eyes have seen for years now, allowing that particular organ resting within my cranium to experience, but all of it has been blurred and I have not learned much, for I have existed here, in this same spot longer than anything I have experienced, in the short twenty one years that I have been alive.

But there has been something to experience, created when my eyes close and my mind wonders. It is something that my hands have wrapped around and held onto, when the thoughts of you surface throughout the day and night, in your random intervals that remind me of what I lost. In the physical realm, I am seeing the various splatter points of water droplets impacting the gravel, metal, rocks, grass and fabric that makes up my world currently. Physically, my vessel can feel the numbing cold of the cage beneath me, the shakes created by my waterlogged clothes and my hair whips in the gusts slightly, as wind bellows around me. But my soul? In here, Within The Void, I am on fire.

The world has become my gasoline and my memories are an eternal fire that has raged and raged for all of these years. Every physical experience adds to the gasoline that burns my soul, lightens my world, creating an inferno that only this wind, only this rain, only this point in time stops from exploding in an avanlanche of energy that nobody would be able to confront or destroy. I'm seeing the world burning and it has brought me a joy that only you gave me; and ask myself aloud, "Why won't it consume my reality?"

I know the answer. I'm waiting for you, still. You're my ghost and I'm in love with you, still. I've been told, not only by myself, but individuals in my life whom have come to know the small portions of my mind that they became to know of, that you won't be coming back, despite my best attempts. I know that the stagnation that this has caused to me has made a weakness inside of me. An all consuming disease that has rotten my insides and soon, the facade that I have created, without a due course or reason for being there. But I can't help myself. You see, I'm smiling. It's the brightest, largest smile I'll ever have. It's because you gave it to me. Thank you for being there, even if you're not.

Goodbye, my love.​
 
Existence is based upon perception, but also upon the soul. With our eyes, we are allowed to perceive the environment in which our physical vessels find ourselves in. Whether this is from walking along the streets of London to the sofa in your sitting room, perception is the perceptiveness of your existence in the physical; and when your physical existence dissipates, followed by the degradation of your vessel and the subsequent death that follows, it has been believed by the people that your soul transcended your vessel and into a state of existence that has not yet been confirmed to exist. In a sense, the perception of Humanity is flawed.

Ascension from the flesh into corporal form is yet to occur for this lost soul. Belief in this is not something that the man shares, yet he does believe in the soul; and that existence of his soul has been somewhere left in the past, in comparison to the present and future events that followed the day he was abandoned upon a hill, by the love of his life. The pain has anchored him to that place, and what is described as the soul has found reunion for the flesh, when the vessel has returned to the place of existence in which it finds itself. That particular hill, where love was confirmed for one; and ignorant to the contrary of the other. Abandonment ensued. The void within ascertained. He knew had been broken by the girl and yet...

...She is all he can think about.​
Imagine this natural structure then, overlooking the plains of London. Arms lifted into the air, finger tips that could grip the gusts that are passing through the slips in between each biological appendage. What feels like decades have ensued since the fatal day the man found himself broken by love and left with an emptiness he was desperate to fill. Years of laying in confines of an in material cover to hold together the natural warmth the vessel, confined within the under layers of soft quilt and pillow, to discover the imagination that the soul perceives, when one finds themselves in a state of unconsciousness.

For he has measured the world and found it wanting. Perception within these states of presumed rest and relaxation have allowed one to see it burn, as he has. For his soul has been on fire for five years; tormented by the lusts and passion that he felt for a certain woman he has known for seven; perception of his environment has only allowed him to perceive that Humanity is lost and that the world is doomed to their stupidity; the wars and battles between man are in stark comparison to the one he has gone through in this relative, short amount of time.

Everything is gasoline to this man and he has found himself in an inferno that now, within the imagination has perceived his environment to burn with him; and it is with that mind set that, soon, apocalypse shall ensue for all.​

For, you see, his world burned away long ago. All he wanted was her. She was the source of his redemption. These darker verses that have taken his latter life was always realize from the younger days of life. His environment has always been in a state of abyss; a void in which he has continually sunk towards an end that can only come through the destruction of his vessel; and thus allowing one to learn that the belief of mankind was right, only to be denied the ability to explain the truth.

He is coming to the end now. Everything is on fire. Gusts are only the source of ignition to the flames; petroleum has covered his vicinity; and the environment that he finds himself is all manners and factors of the destructive hate he has been filled with ever since he lost her. Arms that were once spread into the skies, lower back down before falling to the sides. He imagines that the surrounding fire have caused the build up of the toxic that would match him, thus causing the subsequent fall to the scorched grass; and the stones that were found in metallic cages, used for walls that held the parts that man installed to the hill that had been formed. He falls...

...and eyes awaken, to find himself in that relative comfort, cover in quilt and softness. Palms raise, fingers tips find his facial features and thus he is buried into them. "I miss you," he murmurs, an admittance of his soul, from which the physical vessel will continue to ignore; carrying what remnant is left of who and what he is, throughout the passage of time. Lost within the past and mere existence in the presence, to a future without her.​
At least he has the memories...
...right?​
 

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