Say, you are my left wing.
I could not ascend to a higher sky
if you don’t make sure
you are embraced by the sun,
loved by the crescent,
and nurtured by the wind.
It’s all in your implementation
of profound existential grief.
I once thought about the premonition
of you leaving the underworld
and I knew that it would just
leave me drowning all day
My godfather told me not to
cry during the warfare
he told me to heal the broken and the wounded.
You’ve been my left wing
since we were young vines.
You also told me to heal the ones with severe wounds
and it devastates me that
when we grow older
the one with severe wounds is yourself.
I mourned at the facticity of impermanence and then I envisaged myself as having been lost in the world of war. Lost and disarmed, at least not until I became someone who gets triggered easily by the concept of mortality and its discontents.
Today I tied my auburn hair up and wore my Turnover shirt for it’s the look that gave me inner force. I’m waiting to be interviewed by the record label that I submitted my songs to — thinking that writing songs about congeniality could save someone’s life or heal someone’s wounds — whereas in fact, it couldn’t. I’m just a speck of untermensch and altruism is a social projection.
And so when the interview went on, it all went smooth sailing until they asked me about my personal interpretations regarding one of my songs called Left Wing. It slightly left me a frightening sight of atrocity exhibition inside my own paradigm.
“So mind telling us your personal interpretation on this song?”
“Well, sure. This is a clickbait song because when you see the title, you might assume that this is about anti-establishment or fighting the authority or igniting an anarchist spirit. But no, it’s about something else.”
“And what is it about?”
“It’s a subtle take on love, that appears more like a congenial altruism than love. The genders of the two people who appear to be the ‘characters’ of this song are open to everyone’s interpretation so they can be anything, and.. it tells about..”
I chuckled. I saw it coming. A thunderstorm of malignant relapse is going to hit me up again afterwards.
But then I continued. “It’s about, well, the narrator is a kind-hearted and compassionate person who was raised by a supportive environment that taught them to grow up as the benevolent person they are now, and they have a.. childhood friend slash lover? I think? who grew up in an environment that’s.. not as supportive and safe as the environment the narrator grew up in. And this childhood friend slash lover grew up to be, sort of, broken, fragile and desolate. The narrator grew a profound attachment and urge to shield them.”
“It’s a captivating premise. Could you also tell us why do you use the phrase “left wing” in a metaphorical sense to refer to a loved one?”
“It’s just that, I, it’s a habit of mine. What I usually use to call my loved ones. I really love leftist discourses, so when I call someone my left wing, they must be a really significant one to me.” I then said.
“Cool. Do you have any thoughts or reminiscences of a loved one when you wrote this song? They would be deeply touched and havoc-wreaked listening to it.”
“Yeah, I do..” I murmured softly. “But the person is now..”
I don’t have the guts to say the word “deceased”. It is my major trigger. Before everything gets worse, I turned on the sound of ringtone on my phone to make it look like I received a call, so that I could make up an excuse to go outside and avoid relapsing during the interview.
I finally could get myself outside for a while as I started reminiscing on what happened nearly five years ago.
The reason why the song Left Wing was born.
“Life and death have been in love. For longer than out words can say.
Life sends countless gifts to death, and then death keeps them forever.”
“Why do the best people die? Because when you’re in a garden, which flowers do you pick? The most beautiful ones.”
I grew up being viscerally attached to those two overrated quotes. Mostly because it reminds me of how vast and omnipotent the force of the world is, and that I thought it would help me cope with the death of a loved one when it happens someday. Even though I learned that it did not.
My 14 year-old self was sitting on my own rooftop with the one whom I called, and will always call left wing, Freyr, who was 18 back then. He brought kush for both of us so we decided to smoke it all up and we would talk about anything; Converge’s All We Love We Leave Behind album that has just been released on that year, politically incorrect jokes about renowned historical figures, how an anti-authoritarian society is so utopic but we want it anyway, how we can’t actually implement the thesis-antithesis-synthesis spectrum of Hegelian dialectics in real life because there would eventually be some inherently contradicting points that we would encounter. Basically anything. For the night when the full moon shone was the time we could flee away from our ingrown life.
“Raisja.” He called me softly and stroked my hair. “Are you gonna sign up for the army?”
“Yeah probably..” I then answered. “My old man genuinely taught me a lot about firearms, about self defense, about what to do for the sake of resistance.. just that I’m not sure though. My political alignment might not suit these kinds of shit.”
“I see.” He proceeded. “Whatever roads you’re gonna take, make sure it’s the phrase ‘arduus ad solem’ engraved in your heart. Striving towards the sun. You have the heart of a Valyrian steel, and a song to hall up high; and I believe that you could go places because of that.” He said again. Occasionally he would roll up his sleeves and I could see his wounds but I obviously decided not to say anything about it — he grew up in an environment that is not as supportive as mine, led an ingrown life, and since we were kids I have always known that he has seen more than what average youths his age have seen, and that led me to grow a responsibility that somehow I should be the one in charge of the safety of his well-being. For even though surrounded by friends who considered him an influence, deep down I know that he only had me to unleash his weaker sides to.
“Say,” he then leaned closer to me. “Show me a facticity as inherent as the thrown-ness of human existence.”
“The facticity of death it is.” I said. “The world sends lives.. souls, as a present for the one imperceptible deity called death, and then it’s inherent and inevitable that those lives won’t come back again. Death loved the world and the beautiful souls inside it so much that death decided to keep them forever.
“Yeah, I think so too.” He said. “People thought the phenomenon of beautiful souls being taken away by death is devastating and unfair, and I thought the same too at first.. but then I learned that it might be that death loved those souls so much that it decided to shield those souls from harm by taking them with it. Because the world can be harmful. And death might be a safer place. I don’t know, have never been there though..”
I smiled at how the inside of your head has always been a subliminal radiance of a northern light. I considered it a catharsis to some extent. I then said. “If you were given a chance to be reborn, I would like to name you Sindri; for it means “to sparkle around the sun”. It represents you well.
I am fond of the idea of you being in the state of concord. To me it’s a catharsis that makes my heart feel alive. Not because I’m trying so hard to be or look altruistic, but because it’s a cathartic redemption to me if I were to see you finally getting to spread your wings freely. You are liberated to aim higher; to ascend and reinforce thy own fort. But I am fine with the way you are now though, Freyr is one of my favorite gods of Norse myth; the ruler of fertility and peace; one of the noblest lords. And you’re named after him.”
He pressed his lips against me and he moved forward in order to make sure I was not out of reach for him to caress me. He replied; “And then in the end, the northern lights would shine after you too. For even though the disparities of our days and alignments are distinct, yet the earnest heart on the road would make it through to shimmer on the top of the mountains we have always wanted to seize. Be it the northern lights, the southern lords, the winds that blow for the undead. The ability to descry the light audaciously, to perceive the alka seltzer-colored visceral sky as something that leaves trails of each other’s roles in this indignite scape, is a gift from the thunder god that has always watched over both of us.”
“We stay alive under the crescent; we always do, and we always will. Tell me when the crows sing those subliminal hymns of peace again — and I’ll sing along; I might not be the best, but deep down I know that I can strive to be the soothing voice that coexists with your chaotic, distorted killer riffs of the gods.” I replied back as I saw that the crescent on that never-ending night was smiling at us.
“Yeah, I know well of it.” He said. “I believe, our singing voices that collide would sound like Valkyries and Einherjars singing anthemic viking metal songs paying homage to Quorthon, if we put our most sincere hearts to it.”
“We don’t settle for less, and that happens to be the reason why are we still fighting, here and now. Noises may disrupt and break those four walls, but they don’t stop me from asseverating why everyday the sun hollers out reasons to love you as a whole, as a transcendental individual.”
“And we both know we would unleash our most havoc-wreaking tears when we ought to cope with the last caress of goodbye, and even though it has not happened yet, we still ought to anticipate it for we are the realistic type, but as for now — as frightening the world can be, and as crude the trails of atrocity exhibition may appear, the constellations are out there searching for a glimpse of your zenith and most sincere hope and anticipation.”
I’m sure we were at our zenith during that night. Impending doom may take a glimpse of look at our most halcyon day but eventually we did prevail.
With a reference of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, With the coming of Freyr Rosenkranz, began the part of my life you could call my life on the road.
Dismantled and far-fetched, but still won’t cave in, that’s what you are.
Countless times I’ve seen you bleed from wounds of warfare, but that doesn’t stop you from possessing that absolute valiance that resurrects the dying light.
You are my left wing, an otherworldly creation and revolutionary idea that keeps me on going in this fundamental bogus-ravaged world. We go together like Marx and Lenin; you’re the idea and I’m the deed. But that’s already enough to envisage how the wheels of earth have always wanted you to stay. To seize and destroy. It’s the shadow of heaven that helps me getting rid of my fears of you leaving; for it would be the concrete form of hell to me.
You are not my first — for they said your first love would be a distortion, and mine turned out to be one indeed. But you can be the first one to ascend to a higher realm and show me the worlds I have not seen yet, and then I would do the same for you too. For every “please never cave in” and “please never relent” that I say, it’s based on how I think the earth would grief so hard over the roads you have not taken yet if you decide not to take them.
Come down and scatter the waves; pull yourself together and then the northern winds would sing the tunes you love the most, the sun will race against all kinds of overlords for you, and the skies would ignite the flames that keep you alive and unharmed. That’s just how much the world loves you — when the world you live in happens to be the one I create inside my heart for you.
After that profoundly contemplative conversation, there was a relatively long moment of silence until he decided to ask me something first.
“Wanna go to that place?” asked Freyr.
“Where though?” I asked back, not sure where he was referring to.
“You know, stuff.. my wolfpack.” he said.
“Sure.” I replied. It was the basecamp of Freyr’s drug dealer friends that he was referring to. He took me there often and we all would casually hang and have life-changing conversations about a myriad of things and they would offer me “stuffs” as well — and I was fond of going there because they were good lads; they have interesting perspectives toward the world and being the ones with ingrown lives they are, they never stigmatize mental health issues and they are well aware that somehow the world can be crude and harmful, they do admit that cliched motivational utopia won’t work to heal a damaged soul, and that it’s important to be realistic that positivity won’t always work on the people who have been through a lot. That place was one of my sanctuaries beside my own rooftop where I always spend time with Freyr at almost every night.
We drove there and spent some times having a conversation about the book We by Yevgeny Zamyatin, which is a dystopian fiction that revolves around a state being ruled by oligarchical dictatorship where the people are being put on a panoptical surveillance. Panopticism in surveillance is one of the theories constructed by Foucault too so we ended up branching out to talk about that subject as well. I could see that Freyr was a bit worn out though, he seemed spaced out and didn’t participate in the conversation much. At 3 A.M. almost everyone there decided to go take a nap until there were only two of us left, me and one of Freyr’s friends named Conrad.
Conrad approached me and said. “You’re a fine young lass with a decent future ahead of you. You’re raised by a supportive home. What made you end up here?”
“I’m sorry, what were you implying?” I gave him a look of mild confusion.
“What brought you here? We’re lowlifes with shattered youths, with most of us broken and mentally damaged. With ingrown lives never going in the way we wished for. Lost things relentlessly until we’ve got nothing to lose and got everything it takes to be a nihilist lowlife.” He then tried to explain.
“I.. you know, am not a normie.” I answered. “Look, I’m sorry to hear what you all have been through and it’s true that somehow the world is a virulent piece of dipshit that offers menacing atrocities and shall we screw those normie fuckers with perfect lives who constantly offer us cliched motivational nonsenses only to stigmatize our mental health problems when we can’t relate to their motivational garbage because we’ve been through so much more. But with you saying that, you kind of implicitly try to tell that I’m a normie and that I don’t belong here. I love being with you guys, for you guys get it that the reality can be batshit crude and the lights don’t always come to shine in front of us.”
“Raisja, precious young vine,” Conrad lowered his voice tone. “I’m sorry. I know it was an impolite prejudice. Should have thought twice before letting that remark out.”
“No, it’s okay, really.” I replied. “I get it that people make mistakes sometimes, including saying things that we didn’t really mean to say but we ended up saying anyway it and it’s humane. Pretty sure I have done that before too a couple of times.”
“You’re a good lass, precious young vine.” He said. “Or if only Freyr is entitled to call you that, I’ll stop calling you that way. Now tell me, do you have any problems in mind currently? You can talk. And I’ll listen”
“It’s alright, go ahead and call me that if you want to. It’s not exclusive.” I said. “I do have some problems but I just.. is it really alright if I bring this up? You might have been bearing your own burdens too so I don’t want you to deal with my shits..”
“If I already offered it then I meant it.” He said. “Go ahead and I’ll listen.”
“Well, I don’t know, it’s just.. my surroundings at school happen to be a fairly toxic one so sometimes people there just.. they have said some harsh remarks that made me question my self worth and feel like that self worth itself does not exist. It has driven me into a series of all-around anxiety but I.. I don’t know, my good old man told me not to cry during the warfare, when I was a kid. He told me to heal the broken and the wounded. I tried not to bring this up and act if it does not matter and focus on the social working I do instead, to help those with mental health issues.”
“Now tell me,” he said. “Have you ever talked about this to anyone?”
“Not really.” I answered. “I don’t really feel like.. bugging people off with my dipshit teenage angst. I’m afraid that people around me have their own battles already. Well, of course they do.”
“It’s not a teenage angst, Raisja. It could evolve into an impending doom of depression if you don’t treat it. Have you ever talked about this with Freyr, whom you obviously consider as your most important person?”
“Nope..” I said in a hoarse voice.
“Well of course you haven’t.” He said. “You obviously can’t talk about any of your problems with him because you’re too busy handling his shits. Dealing with his this and that issues. That you forgot to take care of yourself, and you guys don’t mutually protect each other from harm. It’s only you taking care of him, and not vice versa.”
I got downright aggravated and furious at how he could say something that obtuse. “You scumtrash — What the fuck do you know!”
“Oh, a sense of denial.” He said. “But it’s true, right?”
“Regardless of whether it’s true or not, what you just said is not the wisest thing to say. Your manner has left me direspecting you for the rest of my life. You don’t speak ill of your own good mate like that. You have known Freyr for longer than me, and you know that you both have felt what an ingrown life feels like, you have fought battles together. And we all know that what Freyr had been through isn’t something that is easy to recover from. He had enough wars caused by the cruelty, the abusive environment he grew up in, the downward spiral of his failing reputation because of the crimes he committed. Is it fucking wrong that I’m trying to at least accompany him battling this all?”
“But you didn’t blatantly say yes or no. Means you didn’t deny the fact that what I said is true, right?”
Is one paradoxical question that I deeply loathe.
I hate this situation and I wish to curse Conrad for the rest of my life.
I then nodded.
Conrad always spoke the ugly truth.
“Good, it’s cool to know the real you.” He said with a wicked smile. “You are not completely altruistic, Raisja. Embrace it. And the thing with Freyr, just because he has been through a lot, doesn’t mean he has the right to be a completely egocentric douchebag and ignore the fact that you, his loved one, have problems too. My life is fucked up as well but I still manage to listen to others’ problems.”
“I’ve had enough with your nonsensical hogwash.” I said in an inclement manner. “I just thought highly of you but you broke my respect down by not understanding that everyone has different resistance to pain.”
“Chill the fuck down my little precious vine.” He said and then offered me two pieces of valium pills. “Fancy having some?”
“No, thanks, I..” I said. “I don’t regularly take meds.”
“Freyr usually takes these when he gets batshit daft. When life gets fucking blurry.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” I replied with an indignant sarcasm for I was just downright done with him.
“Look,” He said. “You have no one as a sanctuary to heal you from your own problems. Freyr has you already. You deserve these pills more than him. It would help you get through shits.”
He was right.
I got defeated.
I then accepted his offer to take those pills and there was silence. Until Conrad greeted me goodbye and headed to his room to take a nap.
I went forward to the bedroom too, and found the sight of Freyr staying awake.
“You awake?” I asked.
“Fuck off, Raisja!” He then lashed out at me. “I don’t need you as my left wing or some fucking shit, I’m going through this all by myself as you have always wished for!”
“What the actual? Tell me what’s going on!” I started to get neurotic that what I have always feared came true. And it came true.
“I heard all the fucking things you and Conrad conversed! I knew that all the big words meant nothing and deep down you have always wished for me to fuck off and not bother you anymore with all my shits! And guess what, I have never asked you to help me! If you want me going through shits on my own then I would heartily fucking do it just as you please!” He started to berserk and lose his temper. I could see tears of a shattered hope falling down from his eyelids.
“It’s not like that, Freyr, I..” I was out of words. “Conrad was a provocative douchebag and he.. he intentionally dragged me into this and I.. I have never wanted this situation, I swear.”
“But you fucking consented to his provocation and you agreed with him! I also knew that he stole my pills in order to offer it to you and you accepted his offer to take those pills for fun!”
And this time.
It was my temper that broke.
“What the actual fuck — watch your fucking godforsaken words you one insensitive fucktard! For fun, you said? I had reasons why did I accept his offer to take those pills! I have my own anxieties too! Things have been hectic that some schoolmates have said harsh things to me that made me question my self worth and get into a series of anxiety but guess what, I tried so hard to prevent myself from drowning and acted as if nothing mattered by never talking to you about it for I know that you have your own fucking problems and I don’t want to burden you even more! As someone who has a high-functioning depression I tried to stay useful by doing social working because you and my father have always taught me to heal the wounded and I also still managed to help you out of your battles and I did all that because I don’t want anyone to look at my weaker sides, you scum! Just because I never brag about my problems to anyone it doesn’t mean I’m a fucking privileged normie who’s got it all good as if there’s nothing to fear ahead of me!”
And then again,
a long silence appeared and as I examined that Freyr has grown some more bruises and wounds around his chest, arms, and wrists, I automatically noticed that there obviously has been a trigger to all his temper tantrums.
“I’m sorry, my very own left wing, my endearing northern wind.” He said as he came forward to caress me, a strong flow of tears falling down from his face. “It may sound like I’m guilt-tripping you and I know that I shall never be justified. What Conrad said was right, I did not take enough care of you to notice that you had been battling your own wars too whilst helping me battle my own at the same time. You have the right to condemn me, that there is no way I could still be forgiven and justified after all of these. It has always been you protecting me and this time I will do the same for you. I will try to at least make up my past mistakes by paying more concern to you. I don’t need to ask whether you’re alright for you’re clearly not alright and how fool of me not to realize it, my left wing..”
“I’m alright.” I said, in a poignant tone out of crying too, as I caressed him tightly also.
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m good if you don’t falter, I’m alright if you don’t hang loose and say that it’s the end of the world for you. Your ability to fight and stand on your ground of perseverance is a blessing, so please keep them, and when the battles have ended, I am making sure that you would come home and caress me under the sense of profound compassion that submerges the waves. We don’t die like a convoluted conundrum. The love I have is an endearing one that I have built inside of my entombed soul. Seeing you cry incinerates me too, seeing your freedom get abolished leaves my heart in distraught too. Please remember the tranquil small world we constructed with our feeble hands, under the lacerating snow. When the full moon comes, I will exert my light of resurgence for you, and you will be able to obtain the power of reinforcement.”
“My left wing, my greatest love, I — “ he started to falter and he was about to lose consciousness.
“It’s okay.” I said. “You need to take a proper rest and take some time by yourself. It’s gonna be a process of recovery.”
And so I let him be.
I let him have some time for himself for I know that he needed to recover. I knew that I needed to stay away from him for some time so I don’t bother him so I decided to take a long march of road trip. I was neurotic that what I feared came true but I also was relieved that it eventually came to an end that was not bad.
When I was about to drive home after about two hours of road trip, I noticed that there has been several missed calls from Conrad and the rest of the pack and I tried to call Conrad back.
“Raisja, are you there?” He asked in a voice tone that clearly sounded like he was crying.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“What?” I asked. A bit of lightning strike hit my heart somehow.
“You know, the thing that happened to Ian Curtis at the end of his journey.”
“Yeah.. what’s with it?”
“It happened to Freyr as well. 15 minutes before you answered my call.”
Life and death have been in love.
For longer than out words can say.
Life sends countless gifts to death.
And death keeps them forever.
My left wing, my very own Norse god of fertility and peace, my knight in shining armour,
he’s gone forever. At 18.
And he has became the precious gift that life sent away to death as a form of sincere love.
This is what he meant when he said something about how sometimes it’s just that death loved the broken souls that life gave so much that it decided to keep them forever.
The imperceptible deity called death loved him so much that it made him the lord of war, the ruling warden of the North, in another realm up there.
Death loved him more than me
and shall I accept that fact with an earnest heart.
Indeed, Freyr’s death left me in a huge katzenjammer and a severe breakdown just like what the rest of the people who loved him felt. But unlike the others who couldn’t accept the fact that he had to go so soon and were in denial about it and couldn’t let him go, I didn’t think that way. Everyone’s gonna be that one precious gift that life would send to death someday, and he became one at a young age. And I have to accept that fact. He had fought and suffered so much that both life and death who loved him more than anyone else, decided to do what’s best for him. Life decided to send him away to death which is a safer place because it could not stand seeing him suffering that much, and death kept him inside it, knowing that it offers a safe place. I was, of course, devastated that I didn’t have my left wing coexisting with me in the same world as me anymore. But I was relieved too, that he finally didn’t have to fight so hard and suffer so much anymore. I may sound like I’m very altruistic but no, I’m not altruistic and knowing that I’m not, I know that eventually in the future there’s a possibility I’ll find another love again somehow, regarding that it’s a human nature to possess the desire to find a significant other. But it does not change the fact that my left wing, my igniting blade of fire, would always radiate as the lord of the transcendental realm up there, and deep down inside me.
I have worked so hard this far, after Freyr’s death. I’m now 18, the same age as him when he died. I’m gonna be 19 in several months which means I have survived longer than him and I also have the possibility to survive even longer, with the existence of loved ones and a safer environment surrounding me. After his death I did my best to accomplish what could make him smile in triumph and say “You made it!” if he was here. I have done a myriad of things to at least prove him that I could still rise above after his demise; I got into social working, I wrote for several publications about social issues and mental health, I got several decent jobs and succeeded to do well on my studies, and I managed to battle my own fears too. I still wish Freyr could be here seeing new cool things that he surely would love if he was still here. For example, I wish he could discover Nothing’s recent album Tired of Tomorrow that has an emphasis on mental health and existential fear. But fuck it, it doesn’t mean that my left wing, my renowned counterpart, is gone. He flew away to a safer place, and morior invictus. “I die undefeated”. He carved it on his left wrist, as a sign that he would remain undefeated even until his death, and that despite an army of wounds in that part, there was still a ray of light that showed that he didn’t lose in his battles. Invictus by William Ernest Henley and The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost were his favorite poems, and mine as well. But I have found another addition to my list of favorite poems, which is To This Day by Shane Koyczan. It was performed as a spoken word poetry, tells about the struggles of kids with ingrown lives; kids who spent their lives fighting and trying so hard to survive in this cruel world. It was released some time after Freyr’s death and I wish he had a chance to discover it.
Anyway, if you’re still wondering about how did that interview about my song went, yeah, as you can see, I had an attack approaching but then I remembered that the visceral skies and my renowned Norse god is up there looking after me, and it went well. Afterward I felt like I saw a reflection of Freyr smiling at me and saying, “Thank you for writing Left Wing in honor of me, you scumfuck. As I have told you before, you’re gonna go places, and now you’re going places, my Valyrian Steel-hearted love, my version of Arya Stark.”
There was some sort of a suicide note from him that I received through Conrad back then. But it sounded nothing miserable nor poignant. It sounded peaceful. It showed the power of resurrection and earnest love. And I placed it on my drawer. It’s a subliminal last gift he has given to me, and I have always put it in the analogy where I am the death, he is the life, and that note is the precious gift that life has given to death.
It goes like this;
“If I had only one day left, the one thing I’m certain of is that I’d be dedicating all my lost marches to you, the only one I’ll keep safe in the whole world. You, who have ventured with all your valiance and determination to fight and win all the indignité wars everyone believed that no one could’ve won. You, who have saved the days from wayward winds and headwind storms. You, who have been scattered in flames, but audaciously rose against and encouraged everyone around you to do the same too. You, whose kindness and sincerity converged all worlds on your feeble hands. You, the real fighter who have succumbed to all the sacrifices you’ve done out of your faith in humanity. You even thanked the villains of your life whom have thrown you in the sea full of storms, for making you stronger. Not everyone can do that, you know. You’re cool as fuck, you have always been from the start. And shoot me in the head if you ever think you’re not, even once.
I don’t know where to start this but I never thought you could turn things out into the way they are now. You often wonder who’s your admiral and why are you here but you’ve found the answer, haven’t you? You are your own admiral, and everyone’s too, including mine. And you’re here to see the world and fight. With me.
You’ve proved the world wrong so many times, and you’ve made me believe in everything I couldn’t even bother to give a single faith towards in the past. I was in distraught and my world was on the verge of destruction. I fell and bleed head over heels, I thought my inside was dying and I used to believe that the solstices in those restless nights were telling me that I was born to be placed in the stream of oblivion that has no end. Before you came into the world of mine that used to be nonchalant, I could never believe in things I have a strong faith in now. I thought some things would remain impossible and some days will never change.
But then you came along and made a reformation. You resurrected the heart of mine that had died before. At first, I’m sorry but I once thought you would never even have the power to do it from the start, I once thought you were the one whom I must always shield from harm and share a light to guide to go through dark tunnels, I thought you were here to wholly depend on me, but no, I was wrong as dead. You have always been the one protecting me all along.
Despite your feeble hands and earnest, vulnerable heart, you radiate the brigthest light to guide everyone through their valleys of death — you let everyone depend on that luminous force of yours, including me. You converged all the worlds that I thought, could never even be converged. You integrated all the strength that I thought, could never be integrated. You’ve proved me wrong by exerting all your force to be able to do the things that I thought, were out of your limitation of strength.
You once told me that I gave you courage to fight all the wars and taught you how to see the world but no, it’s all the other way around. I’m sorry if I once thought you were obviously no stronger than me at first sight, for in fact you have always been the strong one. Not only that you overcometh all your fears and weaknesses, but you also turned everyone’s fears into their greatest strength.
The lost Valkyrie,
I promised that I would definitely find her. I’ve found her.
And here I am in this state — of having to go to another world I strive for, quoting the song Libertine Dissolves by Deafheaven;
“I loved a girl I’ll never speak to again. I spoke to a girl I never stopped loving”.”
The phrase “left wing” is my trigger. When people first heard about this, they thought that I were a crude dictatorial fascist who gets triggered by a Marxist utopia. And that’s kind of fucked. But no, I get triggered to remember that my left wing, my renowned counterpart, has created histories with me and will always create them with me even if he’s ruling as the mightiest lord in another realm.