Tumorous. Your reputation has grown wantonly into a cancer. Preceding You, consuming You, pursuing You. Every iteration a shadow, a dark blemish upon the skin of Your story's bindings. Mocking spectators. Perverted spectres. Voyeurs looking from the outside, in. Blinded by Your own ego. Only to truly wake up after several rude awakenings. You realize You held Yourself too dear. The dearest darling to be culled. The ultimate redaction to simplify this convoluted mess of guest appearances. Take out the brightest light in the dark forest. You held Yourself too highly for too long. You couldn't do It. You couldn't make Yourself do It. You are too important. They don't deserve Your presence but They must suffer It regardless. If You are to be a symbol, You will make It a defacement upon the world. An effigy. A doppelganger. Something, Someone to engorge upon Your remnant blames, hates, fears. Someone to take all the eyes off of You. They are watching. You feel eyes upon You, an invisible presence that follows. Like usual. They couldn't help Themselves. Three lights of work without interruptions. A gracious break from all the unwanted attention. Come to an end. They don't care about the process. Just the results. Too bad. No spoilers. https://file.garden/aer6PKe9Ula7v4tw/lujanns.png #cw-self-harm #photography
((oh god i accidentally gave him an idea im crying