Knowing what I do can be lonely.
Being a Keeper means keeping people at arms’ length, even the ones you love. To keep the secrets safe.
It means knowing too much about the world around you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And forgiving the world despite that.
Forgiving people for who they are, loving them anyway. But being unable to forget. Anything. We just aren't allowed to.
Even the events we got erased from history.. still existed to me. Painful, horrible, gut wrenching heartbreak and misery. But also.. the beauty of the sunrises, the stolen moments with the featherheads, all the children I got to meet and care for.
It's the knowledge of what was and what could have been that slowly eats you up inside. The timelines that should've existed, that did exist, but weren't meant to survive the Quiet. The depression. The pain.
We're the Guardians. The ones assigned to different roles. To remember, to fight, to protect, to keep the memories alive, to see what's coming.
Every one of us, a different role.
Mine is to See and to Keep.
Past, present, future.
I keep the stories alive.
The memories. Even of what never was.
It'll drive you insane after a while.
Creepy or awkward or rude.
The weight of who you are versus what your job is in life. And sometimes.. having to choose between the two.
I know Guardians that retired of heartache. Too many lost souls crossing their desks, not enough resolutions.
The inability to save the ones that need it, because..
No one listens.
It's the Cassandra complex given life.
All I can do is prepare for what's coming.Warn the ones that need it. Write the Archives. And..
Mourn the things and loved ones I've lost.
Slowly counting down the days until I go Home.
Being a Keeper means keeping people at arms’ length, even the ones you love. To keep the secrets safe.
It means knowing too much about the world around you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And forgiving the world despite that.
Forgiving people for who they are, loving them anyway. But being unable to forget. Anything. We just aren't allowed to.
Even the events we got erased from history.. still existed to me. Painful, horrible, gut wrenching heartbreak and misery. But also.. the beauty of the sunrises, the stolen moments with the featherheads, all the children I got to meet and care for.
It's the knowledge of what was and what could have been that slowly eats you up inside. The timelines that should've existed, that did exist, but weren't meant to survive the Quiet. The depression. The pain.
We're the Guardians. The ones assigned to different roles. To remember, to fight, to protect, to keep the memories alive, to see what's coming.
Every one of us, a different role.
Mine is to See and to Keep.
Past, present, future.
I keep the stories alive.
The memories. Even of what never was.
It'll drive you insane after a while.
Creepy or awkward or rude.
The weight of who you are versus what your job is in life. And sometimes.. having to choose between the two.
I know Guardians that retired of heartache. Too many lost souls crossing their desks, not enough resolutions.
The inability to save the ones that need it, because..
No one listens.
It's the Cassandra complex given life.
All I can do is prepare for what's coming.Warn the ones that need it. Write the Archives. And..
Mourn the things and loved ones I've lost.
Slowly counting down the days until I go Home.
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