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I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [★♣°Ππ∆], and created a ♦°¶×~ for °^→], in the [=°•~¶♥].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely •{∆°¢•♪ and [÷′={¢♦], I wish to tell them that they are [°♠÷¶∆] in the [^•√Π∆¶]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.
The minecraft end poem, by Julian Gough.
A game that shaped my childhood
Forged friendships
Creation
Destruction
Love.
Called a game with no point
But the point?
The journey.
In the wise words of technoblade,
"One day, you'll look back, and be amazed by how far you've come."
Nick 6d
Ever noticed someone's cry,
like the prison it holds,
Where is the unknown present?

You chose to support them,
making them comfortable with the inmost of thy heart,
as a reflection of thy deepest feelings,
to heal those with similar struggles,
Improving their mental health.

These profound mysteries of the unknown are waiting to be unraveled,
But they don't express themselves.

So you offer a hug,
curing their darkness,
resembling a sense of belongingness,
Knowing they'll be loved no matter what they go through,
Even if they're incapable of seeing it.

You're forever loved,
Like the heavens that lie beyond our existence of infinity.
This poem expresses my genuine care for people from the depths of my heart.
Lost Dreamer May 14
Why do we fear,
the ones who hold us dear?
They love us, sure,
but, do they know us anymore?
They see the fake,
cause' that's all they can take.
So, in the end,
We're alone again.
But, do not fear,
for I am here,
to comfort all your sorrows away.
January May 8
I wish I could show you,
The sparkle in your eyes.
The same one you're afraid
people won't regard.
as they close their eyes in the rare moments
when you show it just a little
But I wish I could tell you,
it's not because they despise it
but the sparkle in your eyes!?
Its Blindingly Bright
RisingUp May 5
Imagine

Having an illness that impacts every facet of your life.

It’s there when you wake up, and when you go to sleep,

An illness that impacts all of your organs.

That ravages your personality and sense of self.

That destroys relationships, careers, and engagement in life...

And nobody supports you.

-

You are ridiculed, blamed. Told that you are stupid, need to snap out of it.

Others gossip about how you’ve been looking and acting.

You become bathed in shame so suffocating, it nearly drowns you.

Treatment is a long, arduous battle that many face on their own. Many are forced to keep up with work or school because this isn’t seen as a “real” illness. But you are essentially fighting yourself through the process. In fact, many can't even afford proper treatment.

If you don’t recover, the shame persists. You believe you’re defective and failed treatment, that it’s all your fault.

If you recover, nobody rings a bell. Few congratulate you or say much at all. Many who recover hit burn out, and are then questioned as to why they are burnt out.

The shame never escapes you.

I hope one day
Individuals with mental illness
Will be able to celebrate wins and have others support them in their low points
As if it is a completely normal and expected reaction.

Please support those near and dear
They are fighting a battle most would fear.
Mariah Apr 25
You don't have to believe me when I say
They might just love you anyway

What do I even know
But they may notice if you don't show

I know it really isn't my place
To ask if you checked just in case

Knocked on the door
They slammed into my face

At least
The olive branch is free
Please,
Take it with you when you leave
I hope you don't regret it.
Love isn't always euphoric –
Authentic love is a profound joy;
Unwavering support, those who
Stand as pillars in your life

Supported by one's feet, but...
Love isn't always euphoric –

   Some pillars do fall!
The child inside is terrified
Misshapen intent
Quick to doubt
An injustice
Afraid to feel
A silent crime
Killing her mind
Stop wasting her time
Love and understanding
Vital to her fragile existence
If you never Stand up
Show everyone who you really are
If you never give it a try
Then how will you know?
WHAT IT’S LIKE TO REALLY BE ALIVE!
Put your self out there
Plant your feet firmly
And say to the world Excuse Me
Could I have your attention please
I’ve got something to say
Come on
Don’t put it off till tomorrow
Do it today
Courageousness is the way  
Don’t be afraid
Say what you gotta say
Earn their respect
It’s not that hard
This is your show
You are the star
Stand up,
Let everyone know who you really are
What you’re all about
It’s never enough to just stand up.
You should always try to stand out!
Use your voice,
Be loud,
Be proud
YELL!
SCREAM and Shout!
You’ve got this
Don’t chicken out!
This was written as and piece to inspire someone with being afraid of public speaking, and not being too confident or sure of themselves. Thank you for reading.
Mariah Apr 18
When we all see
That when they said
It takes a village
It was meant
Literally
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