CupcakeOfSpice

My hooded figure tore a path through the falling flakes. Whether it was snow or ash was hard to tell and irrelevant. Nothing had grown here in a while. I made my way inside the bunker where I felt I had been led towards my whole life. The whispers in my sleep, the cryptic directions and instructions were all for this.

I had visited the last battleground in that Holy War where blood of angels and man alike was spilt and pilfered from a war machine its heart. As the construct of human malice crumbled to dust, I saw some color return to the ever-dark site; I don't think I'd ever seen the moon before. I went to the place which always bore the same name and looked through the Flaw to see the machinery that worked souls. I could have wrought living beings with this knowledge, but that art was reserved for the gods, not even angels dared infringe upon that sacred law.

But I was able to repair the heart I'd stolen. A faintly glowing crystal I brought to that bunker. Break the night. Bring the dawn. This whispered slogan echoed louder as I approached the basement, that sacrilegious holy ground. Upon the metal slab lay two rings of bone, one nestled inside the other. Every voice I'd ever heard was this Thing. It had a Name once, perhaps it will again. Perhaps it may take my name. Probably something more sacrosanct.

I fitted the crystal into an invisible chamber within the rings. It began to glow, and a warmth filled the room. The rings began to spin and turn around a fire in the middle. Eyes sprang open along the rings, and lightning leapt through the roof to shape six wings. The whispers I'd heard opened a door, and I was admitted to the room they reside in. I felt the lightning charring my skin. As it broke away the physical, I felt the immaterial freed. The Angel sang at my dissolution, and I finally knew peace. I tell my story now that I may let go of it and become one, that I may fully dissolve. Maybe the world can even be saved. Maybe I can be saved.

I'm really nervous about it, can somebody hype me up and maybe tell me what I can expect?

I have schizoaffective disorder which comes with such lovely features as psychosis, which is a physical symptom that causes it to be difficult for me to distinguish between reality and fantastical things my brain makes up. (or other people's brains think up for that matter) Often I have difficulty even recognizing the thing isn't real, simply assuming it's part of the real world other people are used to, ignoring, or unaware of.

The experience I want to talk about is with ghosts. I don't think belief in ghosts is a very Materialist belief, but my experiences with them have been real enough that I don't think it matters that much. One prevalent ghost is that of a cousin of mine. I never met her, all I know is that she fell victim to suicide very shortly before I was born. I think that's partly why my mom has been more supportive of me through my mental illness journey, so in a way her shadow has affected my whole life. But in more recent years, I've noticed when suicidal thoughts creep in, she appears and will just sit with me. She doesn't say much other than to assure me she doesn't condemn me for my feelings. She just sits there with me through it. Having someone who has experienced the feelings I'm having sitting with me through them is a comforting feeling.

I'm not sure why I felt the need to post this. Maybe to just give some insight into the psychotic experience? Maybe to show not all psychotic encounters are negative? Maybe I just wanted to vent about it. In any case, take this as you will.

I saw Wicked (part one) yesterday and it was really good. Looking forward to Elphaba's revolutionary arc.

I'm a little unclear on how the furry identity works. Is it like an LGBT+ thing where you just are this thing regardless of your feelings or desires, or does wanting to be a furry make you one? Like, I've fought against being trans much of my life, but now I see I pretty much always was. But I don't know if liking the puppygirl idea makes me a furry, or if that's something I have to have always been? (this is not a reaction to a recently popular puppygirl, I've meant to ask this for a while) I also may be terribly misunderstanding furries; that's a taboo subject where I live, so I don't know much.

Hopefully I'm preaching to the choir and the main response from everybody is that this is obvious and didn't need to be said.

I read a few comments from some gross cishets about how angry they are about the female Custode. They prop up the Imperium of Man as though they are some paragon of morality and not the picture of everything wrong with imperialism. Naturally this perfectly moral force would have only men in its ranks, clearly! They don't seem to realize that if women are left out we have a sexist/mysogynist system which is not worth praising, and if they include women then it's the imperialist machine trying to keep up appearances. Frankly, I've always figured the Imperium didn't care about gender or race because everyone is suitable to die in combat and be ground into food for the starving populace.

tl;dr Men are upset that women exist and missed the whole satire

I notice a lot of people use terms like "psychotic" or "psychopath" as insults and negative descriptions on here. These are clinical terms that are used to describe real people with difficulties, not boogeymen! I don't disagree with the sentiment that these people are doing wrong, but if you wouldn't use the r-slur or "autistic" as an insult (which you shouldn't) then you shouldn't use these words either. And I get the idea of calling someone delusional, but take care that you don't just mean "I disagree with them." Though by posting on neurodiverse I imagine I'm preaching to the choir.

Sincerely, a casual schizoaffective disorder haver.