The Final Chapter: Game Over

So here is where the story ends.

I found my answer.

Writing is a way to organise thoughts and I know I am not alone in any of this.

I would like nothing more than to skip to the ‘happily ever after’. So on goes the detective hat. An inquisition into my past.

‘Why?’ you ask.

Well… I have no idea what actually happened.

For starters:

I am not a Liar.

I have no need to. That would achieve nothing for me.

There are so many holes in my story. So many.

All those nights chasing highs finally caught up to me. I don’t have an accurate representation of my own past. Like a cigarette put out on a piece of paper, I can only reconstruct from what I have. I took a picture of a cute baby dinosaur and extrapolated a demon.

I usually don’t have a need to defend myself.

How things change when your reputation finally begins to matter. In the past it meant nothing, I could run from circle to circle, around in circles, staying long enough to have some fun and then move along to the next one when things got too complicated.

All of that went away the day I met her. The need to make and keep human connections grew so much stronger. Especially with the people whom I consider special.

I don’t have to name the nay-sayers in the hufflepuff fallacy. The events may not be linked but I have re-read it and the narrative is really good. It is afterall JUST A STORY. Multiple events entwined together with a sprinkle of imagination to make the story worth reading.

A girl however has told me that I have it so very wrong. That I filled the gaps with comforting lies and dug my hole even deeper (she didn’t use those exact words but the message came through loud and clear.)

I believe her.

Like me- No reason to lie.

I put two and two together and managed to make eighty-two. Wolfie Dreams is a over the top demonstration of the kind of wild leaps an overactive imagination can make. Sprinkle in some (okay, a lot of) boredom, enough hash to sedate a cow and you have the result: A brand spanky new story.

She never spoke to me on Whisper after the night we met.

She had no need to- She could talk directly to me. Duh, idiot.

So who was it?

I have my suspicions. Acid Girl, Dead Hamster Girl, Randoms, Someone with photos of her, someone with screenshots of conversations, a parrot- Them trollin’ trolls. I guess in all this you and I my dear reader have learnt about correlation and causation.

My math is really bad.

I was so high,

I got trapped in a delusion.

I hate being the other guy, it’s a role I have played so many times. The good friend, the confidant, the fighter of demons; that guy you can always turn to. In the end, when it comes to be my turn, very few have been there.

In most cases it was understandable- they just weren’t well equipped enough to be there, my mind often wonders down dark alleys all by itself (see what I did there?). It begins to believe things that aren’t real. Unfortunately this makes to be easy pickings for manipulators.

The curse of overthinking.

I know others who overthink a lot suffer the same way I do and in the age of information, it is a lot easier to fall down a rabbit hole.

A digital cleanse now and again is well worth it to understand how good real life can be.

So what am I dancing around this time?

What am I trying to contextualize?

The same thing I have been dealing with for so long:

An answer to a question.

“Why did the girl leave?”

“What can I do to get my friend back?”

“Why does every attempt to reach out end with ‘I don’t want to talk to you’”

“Why does this make me ‘feel so low’?”

I guess I have finally hit the ‘free fall’ phase. An entire year too late.

The Answer:

I just want to feel again.

The night we met, two silent prayers were answered.


Mine and hers.

A miracle moment. Right person, right time. I guess that’s why I keep trying to find a way back.

She was my best friend and I lost my mind trying to forget her.


As for the forgiveness I keep asking for- I don’t know what it is for exactly. It’s for whatever I did that made you stop talking to me in the first place. I don’t care about what was said about me out of spite, wild jumpy conclusions… I just want my friend back. I haven’t really ever wanted anything more.


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