I never deleted the draft, just in case. I wouldn't call it an answer, but I found:
I'm not them. And they're not me. But we're kind of each other. Probably. Itch.io has comics. There are still lights on in the hall. I don't like that. I want to lay down in the middle of a street and just look at the stars. But I might get hit by a car. I want to read the story Stacks wrote in Craig of the Creek. A Star To Call My Own. Sureal, abstract. I like that kind of thing. Things that make your brain feel weird.
Some stuff left out because it mentioned personal info that I'd prefer not spread about, like my partner's name. It looks to be last edited July 11th.
I don't know who I was then, but right now @ 1:57 pm, with a fever, I am not who wrote that. Maybe them, maybe someone else. Sometimes it gets hard to tell.
What a lovely exploration of identity and alienation! It's tempting, much of the time I think, to focus on the negative: those times of day, perhaps, where existence comes less easily. But there's value in lingering in the spaces where we can be, the in-between places that leave us room to move around, to be ambiguous. This game is a needed invitation to appreciate those places, to look at them and admire them, and to admire ourselves in all our various forms.
Comments
Hi Cas, I guess if it was a problem to publish it, then you would have had a new email the next night. Check your draft box, just in case
I never deleted the draft, just in case. I wouldn't call it an answer, but I found:
I'm not them. And they're not me. But we're kind of each other. Probably.
Itch.io has comics. There are still lights on in the hall. I don't like that.
I want to lay down in the middle of a street and just look at the stars. But I might get hit by a car.
I want to read the story Stacks wrote in Craig of the Creek. A Star To Call My Own.
Sureal, abstract. I like that kind of thing. Things that make your brain feel weird.
Some stuff left out because it mentioned personal info that I'd prefer not spread about, like my partner's name. It looks to be last edited July 11th.
I saw this reply was posted at 11 pm. Who were you then?
maybe them or you, or someone else
I don't know who I was then, but right now @ 1:57 pm, with a fever, I am not who wrote that. Maybe them, maybe someone else. Sometimes it gets hard to tell.
What a lovely exploration of identity and alienation! It's tempting, much of the time I think, to focus on the negative: those times of day, perhaps, where existence comes less easily. But there's value in lingering in the spaces where we can be, the in-between places that leave us room to move around, to be ambiguous. This game is a needed invitation to appreciate those places, to look at them and admire them, and to admire ourselves in all our various forms.
Thank you so much for this game!