Before I can remember
I somehow ended up on the wrong planet
I don't really understand but
maybe somewhere out there
are others like me?
You feel it too, right? The p̶̛͍̯̬̯͈̫͍̞̺͛͒̊͑̀̑̆̀́̏̍̿̃͊̎͊̆̀̃̇͑̃͗̇̿̔̾̒͋̆̓̂́͐̀͘͠ͅa̷̮̗͖̻̦̥̥̩̲̺͙̖̙̟̠̗̙̥̫͎̬͔̲̳̹̦̱̻̝̥̦̖͚̒͂͌̋̿̉̈́͂̎͌̋̚̚͝͠ͅi̴̧̨̡̧̛̱̘̱̲̦̦̩̪̗̼̱̺͍̣̫̺̰͎͙̣͙̖͓̗̊͆͐̃̋̀̐̽̏͆̊̓̓̇̊̌̑̏̋͋͗̏̈̈́̈́͘͘ͅn̷̡̢̡̧̡̧͓̯̳̮͈̳̺̫͚͙̺̞͉̜̜̘͔͕̖̹̱͓̙͎͕̦͈̜̥̎̍͜ͅ?̷̡̧̧̡̧̛̞͙̱̞̫̪̮̮̠͔͎̯̘͓̳̯̗̝̹͓̤̟̦̏̒̒̋̄̽̍̈́̓̏͐̒͛̀̑̆̑͆ͅ
It can be hard to keep going sometimes ... but if you can read this message, keep your chin up—perhaps we're not so alone after all.
I worry ...
something feels wrong
inside of me
out of place
but I'm stuck here.
It doesn't feel real sometimes ... I can feel myself d̸̡̢̢̨̛̛̞͇͈̫̗̦̞̪̹͚̥̜̩͍̦̝͙͉͈̮̲̩̩͍̠̈̃̽͋̎͒͊͋́̽͘͜ỳ̴̡̡̨̧̧̛͉͈͇͍̲̪̗͔̮̫̘̠̰̺̯̲̬̟̩̠̩̮̭̼͓̱̞͙̼͕̈́͋̄͑̇̍̂̓̇̏̆͆̈́̐̍̃͆̄̈́̅̈́͛̊̀̔̀͂͗̔̾̏̊̓̕̚͜͠͠͝͝͝͝ͅḯ̶̡̡̨̨̡̻̩̞̻̜̟͕̞͎̖̙̲̲͉̩͕͍̤͖̮͎͖̦̺̫̻͒̓̂̐̾̅̾̒̌́͑̚̚ņ̸̗͔̯̙͚̜̯̱̣̗̑̃͆̂̋̇͝g̷̨̞̱̤̠̭̗̼̟͖̱̬̫̭͔̪̐̀͐̊̉͑͂̃̐̌̎̍̈̋̾̊͋̄͑̏͂̽͒͛̂̃͋͆̔̚͜͝ͅ.̴̡̨̛̗̳̱̤̺̇̌̊̽͛̏̀̽̆̕
Do you know what it's like? I remember sometimes. It h̷̨̛̙̺̙͈͉̞̩̖̙̫̬̬̹̝̠́̾̓̓̏͊̄̐͒͊̄̍͆͆̆̈̑̈̇̌͐́̂̓̅͒̎͌̇̄͊͗̔͊͐̊͘̚͘͘͜ͅͅu̷̡̨̹͚̙̤̮̻̹̯̙̹̥̟̩͑̈́́̊͑̑͐̀͆̄͂̽̓̓̈́̀̽̄͑̓̄͛́̚͜r̸̡̢̗̟̣͔̪̼̱͙̭̤̭͍̯̰̖̙̺̥̗̯͉̙͎͖̻̖̪͕̯̣̮̖̲͎͎̠̼̥̳͈̞̫̠̰͌́̅̽̂̈̈́̍̏̿̌́͂̌̀͆͘̚̚̕̕͝ͅͅͅţ̴̧̖͈̤̱̳͋̈́̎͐̌̓͋̚s̶̡̧̧̢̨̛͕͍͇̹̯͓͍̟͙̬̺̖͚͓̟̪̩̤̹̱̟̩͍͓͉̹͈̳̤̞̜̯̪͓̄͐̀̔̄̽̎̓̀́́͗̂̊̈͘͘̕͘͘̚͜.̵̧̧̣̥̳̖͈̪̣͚͓͍͚̞̮̮͔͚͒̐̈̔͗̏͒́̄̓̐̈͌̉͗̃̿̓̚̚͘͜͠͝.
It's hard to describe
it just feels as if
everything is bad
I got the "bad ending"
except I can't turn back the page
or load an old save
I can't simply go back and try again.
F̴͆̿́̆͑̉̌͝f̴̧̡̛͇̞͎̯̥͈̘̟̺̱͖͑̃́͑̋̒ư̴̧̥̟̻̲̳̠̤̬̘͎̺̑͒͗̅̑̒̾́̽̈́̓̆̐̾̍̾̈̇̽͒̚̚̚ͅc̷̨̡̨̨̧̭͎̭̖̦̩̳̦̦̯̺̝̮̲̬͈͙̥͎͓͚̠̞̜̳̺̝͎̰̯̭̟̭̜̞̻͐̔̐̐̇̓͂̅̓͊̉͗̃͒̿̑͋̓̊̉̐̿̆̑͊̊́̇͜͝ͅķ̶̧̲͙̩̘̺̝̰͖̺̯͇͓̮̭̤̼̥̤̩̱͉̹̳͈̼͙̹̯͓̖̝̫̟̗̟̱͉͎̱̘̹̗̰̘̬̳̲̃́̑̈́̑́͊̽̏͛͑̉̆̒̑̀́̕͝e̵̡̧̖̝̜̪̜͇̖̼̬̘͔͉̦̱̬͉̋̍͂͛̏̔̈̓͆̎̎̚͜͝ͅd̷̢̛̺̩̹̦̰͇͔̤̞̩̼͈̫͉̣͚͇͉̼̝̠̞̲̤̞̪̯̣̠͓͉͓̞̻̎͋͒̅̂͗̈́͑͆͌̑͗̀͊̃͂͂̇̊͑͐̐̕͜ͅͅ
̺̻͇̿̿͆̐̎û̸̧̠̿̄̽̌͌̂̅͋̇͑̿̔̍́̌̕̚͝ḟ̵̡̧̜̠͇̱͕̳͈͕̜͎̯̘́̿́̂͑̃͆̏͐̀̈̏̀̊͐͛̿͆̕̕͘͜͝͝͝ự̸̢̥̠̖̖̱̘̩̲͕̞̗͚͖̟̲̹̤̱͍͔͍̦̙̣̣͍̗͉̼̑̋͗̒͋̋̂̀͂̓͋̿͐́̈́̋͒̈́͂̀̌͑̉́̔̊̍͑͐̂̊̃͛́̏̐̎͘͘͜͜͠͠͝͝c̵̢̧̢̧̨͍̝̳̺̞̲͙̗̖̱̘̬̼̞̱̙̭̬̟̖͖̩͕̤̥͓͎͉̱͕̣̪̟̄̅͐̐̎̆̇̽͐̌͌̓͑̏͑͑͑̃͘͜͜͠ͅk̵͕̘͖̗̀̂̄͐̅̂͋̀͒͗̾́̋͌̇̄͆̈́͊̀́͆̆͋̋́̈́̕̕͝͝͠͠ȩ̴͕̯͕͎͂͋̀̽͐͂̅͜ͅd̵̨̡̡̧͖͖̫̠͇̥̼̻͕͈̹̞͕͎̙͈̗̩̫̝̺͔̣̜̗̬̦͖̼̪̞̬̹͓̮͎̤̗̯͉͖̗̲̙̙̜̫̝̱̹͎͕͛̋̔͌̋͐̅̃̍̽́̆̋̉̊̍͛̈́͒͐̃́̎̽̀́͆̂͗̓́̔̉̌͋͛̃̕͘͝c̴̛̭̘̬̖͔̲͔͉̻̯̮̳̰̺̫̩̩̮͔͇̤̝̰̣̹̗̏͛̏͛̑̈͂̈̑͛͛͛͌̀͌̓̀̾͐̐̎̈̔͆̀̑́̈́̌̅͊͆̕͘͜͠͠͝k̸̥͉̺̰̐̽̿̀̊̈̍̆̄̃̄̈́̓͑̀́̔̍̀́̐͆̈́̉̓̀̊̑̔͛̌̌̌̅̚̕͝͠ it's fucked—of course it's fucked!
How did this happen? How could it?
There's no second chances here
I simply have to go on living
a long drawn out failure
to its natural conclusion.
Were things always like this?
Does it have to be this way?
It's subtle, č̷̛͖͍̠̞͂͐̿̎̇̅̏̓̆̉̈̈́͋͌̋̃͌̆̓͊̏̅͂͝͝͠r̴̨̢̧̧̨̨̛̬̱̲̱͍̻̲̬̘͔̗̮̻̤͎̹̜͚̻͍͖͔̮͚̂̈̋͋̄̎̃̅̽̏̂͊̋͌͝͝͠͝ȩ̷̨̭̦̟̯͖̝̯̬̱͙͙͈̯͈̹̤̱̬̹̭̦̤̩͈͇̠͓̞͈͙͍̙̞̪̟̠̖͓̤͇͓͇̭̒͒̒̈́̍͋̾͛͜͠͝ę̸̧̨̢̛̙͖͇͇̗̩̝̦̰͍̙̹̪̞̪͕͇̮̲̦̥͙̮̤̖̱̮̟̤̞̪̠̤̦̜̝̳͉̜͌̀͋̽̏͋͊̋̒͋͗̆̎͂̄̀̈́͛̒͒̑͂̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝p̸̨̢̬̗̲̻͔͈͖͎͎̯̪̫̠̭̜̲͖̞̫̞͕͙̺͓͕̟̰͔͖̱̗͔͑̾̀̊͌͑͜͜s̴̺̲̠͇̙̮̹̭̄̈́̽̈́̑̈́̿̏͐͊̋́̓́ just below the surface. When I think of the future ...
Is this really living? Am I actually alive? There's little point to any of it now.
No.
I remember—it was real
so real it makes me feel sick
maybe there's still a chance
maybe ... I can still get back.
I think the atmosphere of this planet is affecting my ability to think properly,
or perhaps I'm trapped in some kind of m̷̧̢̨̦̥͕͕̪̮̯̪̞̱̘̩̥̯̲̭̘̦͓̞̺̘̜͕̹̣̬̖͉̠͍̰̔͌̎̈́̉̓̉̽̉̂̊̎̐͂̑̉̀̀͂̋͐͑̔̀̂͋̚̚̕͠͝͝͝͝͝͝è̶̡̨̨͚̭̺̝̟͍͕̪̺̦͖̠̘͓̥̳͓̺͉̱͍̟̥̻͍̓́͐͊̍̉̑͂̄́̊̀̽̂̄̾̀͗̍̀̒̇̀̑̄̊̈́̔̃̐̑̚̚̕͘͠͝͝͝ͅn̷̹̉͛̊̂̉͗̑̅̈́̓͒͌̿̃̌̀͒͌͗̂̈̂̚̕̚̚͠t̴̛͇͎̣͍̹̦̹͍̮̹͈̖̝̮͖͔̹̤̱̦̣̲̭͍͎̭̩͓̭̳͍̜͔̱̞̙͓̣̂̓̀̓͋̀͋̾̋̄̄̀̇͒̇̑̑̋̀̍̅̌̒̀̿̓͛̕͜͜͠ͅͅả̶̢̧̨̨̡̨̢̟̘͖̻̳̰̻̦̳̱͍̳̩̞̦̦̼͙͈̦͎̟̲̭̬̪̪̭̖̤͖̙͙͉̥̪͗̈́̐͗͆̐̀͌͋̍̂̈̒̐̎͊̐͋͊̑̈̉͗̎͗̈́̄̊͆͊̍́͒̈́͘̕͘̕̕͝ͅļ̵̡̛͖͉̯͚̻̙͔̺̣̹̤͎̰͖̻͓̥̠̖̬̥̝̩͈̬̮͇̣̩̜̖̯̻̇̋̂́̊̓̔̎͐͂̾̋̂͛̃̈́̂̃͌̑͊̽͑̕ͅ program designed to dissuade and deter me: to obscurate the ṫ̷̨̛͉̠͙͇͎̭̘̩̊̋͐̓̓͌̂͋̋͘̚͝ŗ̸̡̧̢̨̧̛̛̟̹͖̼̘̣̮̙̘͚̹̮͕̳͚̞̻̺̙͉̳̞̪̘̪͕̻͇̺̘̞͉̤̝͈̺̳̮̼̮̅̐̇̃͆̔̈́̓͗̅̈́͛̀́͋̈́̈́̌͋̓̉͆̾͒̾̏̀̓̂́̽͌͑͒͌̕̕͜͜͜͠u̶̢̢̧͖̙̤̗̫̤̙̰̙̫̣̿̔̀̈̎̎̀̀͋̕͝t̵̨̛̺͈̠̱̦̝̲̩̥͊̀̓͂̌̑͐͒̊͂̆͐̐͋̅̐̆̓͗̑͂̇̈́̂̓̒̇̈́̄̾̾̃̑͌͂͋̄̚͘̕͜͜͠h̵̲̻͎̤̼̱̣̬͐͂̆̊͋͐̉̒̌̑̊͐̓͗̆̄̇͒̾̒̏̅̿̿̅̇̀͑͒͋̆̕̕͜͝͝͝.