A journal I guess

Reminiscing.

Song: You are enough.

I just wanted to pop in, for yet another vent post. Well, not exactly a vent, no, but it is definitely something to help me feel less, alone. This would be the first time I go into detail about my memories so publicly, but I have no other outlet. And despite it being shunned, vulnerability isn't a weakness. It's the thing which reminds us we're human; that there is life and beauty within us. It's a desperately needed reminder for people like us, especially, who are at war with our own demons, and literal demons. This isn't the battlefield that it used to be anymore. But the danger is still very real, and very prevalent. When faced with these threats, it's difficult to focus on anything but survival. I have been on the battlefield countless times, and one thing is clear. There is not a single person who is not afraid, who does not feel guilt, whose life doesn't flash before their eyes. We are human. It's simpler to dehumanize us, to make us out to be lesser than, because then you don't feel guilty about hurting us, criticizing us, and killing us. This life is the most melancholic there is. This is war, and this is what war does to those caught in the crossfire. It ends lives, tears apart families and friends, and destroys entire worlds. It spits out broken people who have lost everything they held dear, gave their all, only to have nothing in the end. What was it all for? What was the point of so much sacrifice? That, my friends, is war.

I had many friends. People who were determined to make a change. People who were compassionate and full of life, ready to protect what they loved, to make sacrifice for what they believed was right. It is thanks to THEIR sacrifice that we are here, possessing these memories and this knowledge. It is thanks to them that we can breathe a sigh of relief, because we aren't in that horrible battlefield anymore. We were given a chance to carry on their legacy, to make a change. I don't know about you, but I want to do right by them. As my friends breathed their last, all they cared about was the safety of others. To progress, to make a difference, to go the extra mile. It seems futile now, but it wasn't all pointless. It wasn't all for nothing. They made a change, big or small. They influenced us as a people. They moved us to tears, showed us love and kindness, showed us human vulnerability and flaws. No, that wasn't all pointless.

Noah, Evan, Kevin, Brian, Tim, Alex, Alison, Steph, Anderson, Autumn, Ashlynn, Evelyn, etc etc etc. My friends, who SACRIFICED so much for us. And now they lead lives, free lives, in this timeline. Free of the monsters which lurked under their beds and in their closets. These memories are anything but a curse. They are living proof of their legacy, of their passion, of their amazing work, before it faded into a forgotten dream. I don't know where the originals are. I don't know. The ones in this timeline have no idea who they were. If you think about it even a bit, you'll start to realize, but wait. Those ARGs, I remember them differently. They were different, the storyline was different, what happened? It was real, and everyone accepted it as real, so what changed? Obviously, the Rift. But why was it something so, so terribly devastating? Every trace of our reality has been wiped from existence as if it was never there. The work of my friends, everything they had strived towards, is gone. And so are my friends. My family, the people I loved. It's not easy by any means to look at their faces and remember something entirely different. The pain they had to endure, the loss they experienced. They have no clue, not a single clue, and maybe I prefer it that way. But it's so incredibly hard not to miss them. Who they used to be, before the Rift changed them. The time that they remembered me and all of our hardships. I'm afraid of carrying this burden alone. I'm afraid of so many things. I'm afraid there is no way to bring it back. It will fade with the memories, become a forgotten dream. That world was our world. I will do everything in my power to keep it alive. My memories may be jumbled, mixed up, and blurry. But I will try.

Evan, I remember him as if it was yesterday. A quiet, but kind and considerate person. He was never afraid to stand up for what was right. It broke him. A part of him broke when Habit first wrecked everything. He had a blank stare, wouldn't sleep, eat, drink, talk, he sat against the wall for days like that, because I think deep down he knew, it wouldn't let him die. But he didn't care, not one bit, if he lived or died. Such a beautiful person, so full of kindness and good. I had never met someone as compassionate as he was. I met him as Habit the first time. It's such a contrast of personality. Evan was never sarcastic or dodgy, he was so down to earth and sincere. Habit was the opposite of everything he was. Nobody really talks about how raw the emotion truly was when Habit hurt people as Evan. Because people don't remember. All that's left is an ARG, which isn't even the original video series. Being around Evan was like being around a ticking bomb, and he knew it. It devastated him more than anyone else, because he knew he could never get close to anyone ever again. People would be afraid of him because of it. People would condemn him, resent him, blame him, for the actions that were out of his control. He was so isolated, so alone, most of his life. It was coincidence how I managed to befriend him. I used to resent him, but to be fair, Habit did chase me down an alleyway with a machete. Thinking back on it, I can't help but smile, because although it was absolutely terrifying in that moment, it was when I met one of my closest friends. Funny how circumstance brings people together. Habit lodged the machete just inches from my face in the wall, and I swear I cried a little, but not before impulsively throwing a kick at his shin while he dislodged the machete. It didn't hurt him, obviously, but the shock of me even having the guts to do that temporality froze him for a second, which let me dodge under his arm and run again. I mean, the man could "teleport" to anywhere I could have gone, but the chase was obviously more exciting to him. But he didn't come after me. I don't know why, I was too scared to think about it. Let me tell you just how terrifying Habit is, even in Evan's body. His eyes are full of something otherworldly and dangerous. That grin is wide in an uncanny way, his voice full of malice and a grunt I can't exactly pinpoint. His voice is the most frightening of all. He's sarcastic, grumpy, impatient, and very murderous no matter the circumstances. And funny. When you aren't on the verge of death, you can appreciate his humor. Anyway, the next day, I saw a man sobbing by the lake, cradling something in his arms. The lake water was very murky, I remember that detail for some reason. It was almost greenish when I went up to him. It was horrible to look at, the mutilated corpse. God. You couldn't even recognize the features anymore. It was a pile of flesh and bones. I think he was too, too far gone at the time to even care. The grief was so powerful, so raw, that I caught myself crying too. I watched him for a while, I couldn't even say anything. I had no words for the emotions he was showing. I almost didn't recognize that he had been Habit before, because his face was red from crying and screaming. I was used to seeing people like that on the street, in the forest, people who had lost everything. But for some reason, I felt what he felt. I started to sob at one point too, because the emotions were just so raw and so huge and loud, I couldn't stop myself. It was the most emotional crying session I ever had, and he didn't even notice. He was so focused on his loss, he had tuned out the rest of the world. After a long time, he quieted down, and he turned to me with eyes filled with distant recognition and tears. Who are you? I had no name at the time, because my memories from my childhood had washed away. I told him, I didn't remember. Staring at me with those narrowed eyes some more, he introduced himself as Evan. He held up the pile of flesh in his arms and said, Steph. I almost cried again, but one look at his face and I couldn't bring myself to. The life had completely drained from him. He was colorless, blank, although the memory of his face is very vague and blurry. I encountered him at the lake many times after that. I knew he had been Habit, but there was something about what I had seen that, drew me to him. I didn't see a monster anymore, I saw a broken man who desperately needed a friend. Habit would sometimes show up, taunt me, and that's how I earned my original nicknames "Rabbit." and "Bunny." I embraced them and soon they became my name. Bunny Rabbit. Evan was the first person who gave me an identity, a purpose, when I had none. It sounds silly to you, but it was so meaningful to me, a person left with no sense of self. Habit was an impulsive and chaotic force that I couldn't ever predict. He was as unpredictable as they come. Sometimes he would drag me to the most obsolete locations and leave me there to fend for myself, other times he would quietly stare, the rest of the time he was cracking dark jokes, pushing me and pulling me, dragging me by the hair, cupping my face, digging his nails into my back, but never anything which would kill me or cripple me. I think I tempted him a few times to bust my kneecaps, but I survived, ahaha. I think I was a way for him to keep Evan in check, keep him docile, but I don't think Evan was going to be much trouble after Habit had killed everyone. He had no motivation to fight. No reason to struggle anymore. Maybe crying with him that day changed something. Maybe I gave him hope he didn't otherwise have by sitting beside him by the lake every day. I had nothing to lose either. Evan was all I had, and I was all Evan had. During a time of great need and loneliness, we provided for each other. I don't know if Habit is even capable of forming emotional attachments. But for the sake of my sanity, I liked to believe he had a small ounce of humanity inside him. That a part of him could care and love. Then, one day, he stopped coming to the lake. I looked for him, by god I did, and in the end, I collapsed by the water, devastated. I cried like he had the first day we met. I didn't know at the time that in the next timelines, we would meet again. I thought I had truly lost him. The name he had given me, that identity, was all I had left of him.