on the subject of fantasy, living and happiness

[flowerwhisperer]

It gets lonely out here, sometimes.

Ah, it's not that I don't enjoy your company, or anything like that. But...

Well, you're a consort, and sometimes I'd rather talk to other players. But right now, I have to rely a chat program to reach any of them, and they're obviously not always going to be around, right? And --

You want to listen to me instead?

...Mmm, very well. I suppose this is something I don't want to bother even Lyn with. He has bigger problems to worry about. But swear to me you won't breathe a word about this to anyone else.

What about my other friends? ...I guess if I wanted to be honest, I don't really have many "friends" here -- at least, ones I'm comfortable with. Lyn probably understands me the most, but the others...

Mmm, they'll probably just get worried. Or maybe they won't actually care? Or maybe they'll laugh at me. This is surely something laughable, anyway.

If you'll allow me to be a bit pretentious, then let us talk about fantasy.

When I was young, I believed in happiness. Even as my lusus taught me that the world was big and merciless, a creature that marched forth unheeding and trampled all and any who stood in its path. Lowbloods, highbloods -- it doesn't discriminate, in that sense. The weak and stupid die, though I suppose highbloods are the fortunate ones to have a head-start, there.

Even so, I believed in happiness. And I believed in gentleness and kindness, even as my lusus tried to pry those out of me. For my own sake, of course. Those things get you killed, on Alternia. The soft-hearted are useless for conquest, and silly dreamers accomplish nothing.

Unsurprisingly, I was a weak and stupid child. How I survived my cave trials is beyond me, nor does my lusus know. I suppose back then, I was already unnatural? Maybe being mutant had something to do with that.

...That I survived a particular incident was more a miracle than anything else. Sometimes, I think I should have died then and there instead -- it would have certainly saved me a lot of trouble.

-- Please don't look at me like that, I'm not saying I want to die. ...Rather, I just wonder whether it was worth living, after that. But there are things I need to do now, so I can't die yet.

After all that, I finally understood what my lusus had been trying to do. And so, I tried to get rid of my soft-heartedness, of the fantasy of happiness.

...Though looking back at it now, even my attempts were pathetic. I spent a whole perigee catching small animals, daring myself to kill them. Just stab them and get it over with. If you can't do even that, what use are you?

Of course, I always let them go in the end. Hah.

Back then, I could not let go of the fantasy. ...Or rather, I guess I did not want to conform to what was expected of me. I did not want to become callous, did not want to ever be "okay" with killing, did not want my life to boil down to bloodshed and violence.

Though really, in the end I still became all those things, didn't I?

I guess that truthfully, I just didn't want to be like them. The idea of being anything like the trolls who thought skewering me was entertainment was disgusting and terrifying. So I held onto my fantasy of happiness, as though it was the only thing that differentiated me from them.

Often, I have asked myself, maybe I'm the one who has the wrong the idea here. Maybe I have the wrong idea of "happiness". Maybe I am expecting too much of my life, which is going to amount to dying as cannon fodder anyway. Maybe, just maybe, if I tried hard enough, then I could have changed, and I wouldn't have to trouble myself with such useless thoughts anymore. Or maybe I'm just a defective existence who was better off dead. There are surely other people who would make better use of the air I breathe, of the space I occupy, of the time I live on.

...But for some reason, I didn't let go still. The fantasy kept me alive during those days where the daymares kept me from sleep, and all I had were my thoughts to occupy myself. I wanted to believe that...one day, some day, I could find happiness. Not just the joy I feel from my garden, but happiness that meant something. Proof that my existence was meaningful, that I was more than just some useless defect who believed in childish sentiments. Though that is in itself childish.

I didn't join this game just for my own survival, but because I thought that maybe I could find meaning. If I can find some reason to believe this life of mine has been meaningful in some way, then perhaps I can find happiness.

But I realized on Alternia, I would always be useless and worthless, unless I conformed. And I could not do that. The fantasy had grown too big within me, and even now I still can't just throw it away. Even when I know I will die, I still want to believe in finding my own happiness.

It's very selfish of me. Surely, there was someone else who deserved a chance to live. Not me. Better people, useful people, stronger people, people who aren't failures. I'm sure at least some people would agree with that sentiment. A half-baked dreamer like me...

...In the end, nothing has changed.

You understand now, why I asked you to never tell anyone else?

...Mmm, I'm glad you seemed to have enjoyed it, at least. You're all into that kind of thing, right? Overthinking and philosophizing.

"Thank you"? For what?

..."A hero who believes in 'fantasy' is a hero who understands us the most", huh?

Mmm. If you say so.