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Now I'm getting pissed off all over again ... Wtf

COMMENTS

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Adain
07:43 Apr 22 2026

Why not air it all out?

Let loose the dogs of war and all that.

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Adain
07:43 Apr 22 2026

What have you got to lose?

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Adain
07:50 Apr 22 2026

I'll rage alongside you if you like. I'm in the mood.

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Time to turn on the music and fade away 🎶

The Lantern‑Bearer — Part II

Where the road begins to speak

Elara walked beside the lantern‑bearer for what felt like hours, though time on this path didn’t behave the way it did in the waking world.
There was no moon.
No stars.
Only the cold, steady glow of the lantern cutting a thin line through the dark.

Eventually, she asked, “How long does this road go on?”

The lantern‑bearer didn’t answer at first.
Instead, they lifted the lantern slightly, and the path ahead shifted — not physically, but in feeling.
The air grew heavier, like the world was listening.

“It goes on,” they finally said, “until you understand why you stepped onto it.”

Elara frowned. “I stepped onto it because it appeared.”

“No,” the lantern‑bearer said gently.
“It appeared because you were ready to see it.”

A chill ran through her — not fear, but recognition.
She had been carrying something for a long time, something sharp and unspoken.
A secret ache.
A longing that had nowhere to go.
A frustration that had turned inward until it felt like a second heartbeat.

The lantern‑bearer seemed to sense the shift in her.

“This road doesn’t show itself to the lost,” they said.
“It shows itself to those who are finally willing to stop pretending they aren’t.”

Elara’s breath caught.

She had spent so long trying to be composed, controlled, unshaken.
But the truth was simpler, and far more painful:
she had been wandering inside herself for months, maybe years, refusing to admit she didn’t know where she was going.

“Then what does the path want from me?” she whispered.

The lantern‑bearer turned their head slightly, as if listening to something she couldn’t hear.

“It wants nothing,” they said.
“It only reflects.
Whatever you bring to it, it will show you.
Whatever you hide, it will uncover.
Whatever you fear, it will walk beside you until you face it.”

Elara swallowed hard.
“Even the things I don’t want to see?”

“Especially those.”

They continued walking, and slowly, the darkness around them began to shift.
Shapes formed at the edges of the lantern’s light — faint, blurred, like memories half‑remembered.
Moments she had buried.
Feelings she had silenced.
Faces she had tried to forget.

The path wasn’t threatening her.
It was revealing her.

And for the first time, she understood:
this journey wasn’t about finding a destination.
It was about finally turning toward the parts of herself she had been running from.

The lantern‑bearer’s voice broke the silence.

“When you’re ready,” they said, “the path will show you why it called you.
But not before.”

Elara nodded, though her chest tightened.
She wasn’t sure she was ready.
But she also knew she couldn’t turn back — the road behind her had already dissolved into darkness.

So she took another step.
And the lantern’s cold light followed, steady and patient, illuminating just enough of her truth for her to keep going.

COMMENTS

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Cadrewolf2
18:25 Apr 20 2026

Excellent

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The Story of the Lantern‑Bearer

They say there is a road that only appears at night —
a narrow, silver‑dust path that winds through the world like a vein of moonlight.
Most people never see it.
Most people never look long enough into the dark to notice anything looking back.

But one night, a woman named Elara did.

She wasn’t searching for magic.
She wasn’t searching for answers.
She was simply walking because her thoughts were too loud to sit still with.
Frustration, anger, longing — all of it pressed against her ribs like something trying to escape.

And then she saw it:
a faint shimmer across the ground, like frost catching a hidden light.

Curiosity tugged at her.
So she stepped onto the path.

The moment her foot touched it, the world shifted —
not violently, not dramatically,
but with the soft certainty of a door closing behind her.

Ahead stood a figure holding a lantern.

Not a warm lantern.
Not golden.
Its light was cold, blue‑white, like the glow of a star that had forgotten how to burn.

The figure turned, and though she couldn’t see their face,
she felt something impossible —
as if they knew her.
Not her name, not her history,
but the shape of her heart.
The bruised parts.
The sharp parts.
The parts she never said aloud.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

The lantern‑bearer lifted the light slightly, illuminating the path ahead.
The road stretched on forever, disappearing into a horizon that didn’t exist.

“To walk,” the figure said.
Their voice was quiet, steady, like someone who had carried many secrets.
“And to guide those who don’t know where they’re going,
but know they can’t stay where they are.”

Elara felt something in her chest loosen —
not healed, not fixed,
but acknowledged.

“Will this path show me what I’m looking for?” she asked.

“No,” the lantern‑bearer said.
“But it will show you yourself.
And that is the only truth that ever leads anywhere.”

So she walked beside them.
Not because she trusted the path,
but because she trusted the feeling of not being alone in the dark.

And as they walked, the lantern’s cold light didn’t warm her —
but it steadied her.
It gave shape to the shadows instead of letting them swallow her whole.

Some nights, the path was smooth.
Some nights, it was jagged.
Some nights, she felt lost even while walking it.

But she kept going.

And the lantern‑bearer stayed beside her,
never leading,
never pushing,
only illuminating just enough of the road
for her to take the next step.

Because sometimes, that’s all a person needs —
not a map,
not a promise,
just a light that doesn’t go out.

Dit is de waarheid
die ik onder mijn ribben vouw,
de waarheid die ik nooit uitspreek
omdat zelfs het donker
mij ervoor zou kunnen veroordelen.

Ik hield van jou
op een manier die verboden voelde,
niet omdat jij onbereikbaar was,
maar omdat verlangen naar jou
aanvoelde als binnendringen
in een leven
dat nooit het mijne was.

Ik zei tegen mezelf dat het niets was.
Een voorbijgaande pijn.
Een schaduw.
Maar schaduwen blijven niet zo lang,
en pijnen kerven zich niet
zo diep in bot.

Het geheim is dit:
Ik reik nog steeds naar jou
in de stille hoeken van mijn gedachten,
in de momenten waarop de wereld
te moe is om mij te zien.

Ik doe alsof ik verder ben gegaan.
Alsof ik de aantrekkingskracht niet voel.
Maar de waarheid blijft,
scherp en onvriendelijk —
Ik hield alleen van jou,
en ik draag nog steeds het gewicht
van alles wat jij nooit hebt geweten.

Ik hou van jou
op een manier die pijn doet om vast te houden,
alsof ik een mes omklem
omdat loslaten zou betekenen
dat de wond echt is.

Jij beweegt door mijn gedachten
als een geest met warme handen,
je raakt alles aan,
maar claimt niets.

En ik —
ik blijf achter met de pijn,
de leegte,
de stille marteling
van alles voelen
terwijl jij niets voelt.

Het is een vreemde vorm van lijden
om te branden voor iemand
die je nooit verwarmt.

Toch
buigt mijn hart naar jou
zoals een bloem naar een zon
die nooit opkomt.

En ik haat het.
En ik heb het nodig.
En ik weet niet
hoe ik moet stoppen met liefhebben
wat weigert
mij terug te beminnen.

Why is it that all I hear is "just leave me alone " yet no one wants to leave it alone just keep trying to stir the shit pot ?
If you want it done then be done and let the dragon sleep .