/tg/Station 13

I first came to the town in the spring of 2017. A friend had recommended it to me; not the town specifically but the state it was of. Intrigued, me and several others decided to visit.

To a newcomer; the town was confusing. Intricate, sprawling, complex, a deeply ingrained culture with its own set of rules. But something kept us, and before long we, or more specifically I, fell in love with the town. We were brazen; our fun intense and fleeting. My friends eventually lost interest and returned home, but something about that town captured me, kept me coming back.

However even in the absence of my friends I continued to act as I had when they were present. I existed for myself, loving those moments of bright intensity and fun, dismissive of the consequences of those moments, those episodes. My banishment was inevitable.

When it finally came, I realized I had not had my fill. There was something about the town that I loved, needed. And so I traveled the region, exploring varying different towns with varying different cultures and layouts. But none compared to that which I knew; to that which I loved. I appealed my banishment, and was allowed back. However something kept me away, perhaps I missed home; hated how long I’d been away.

I did not return to that town until the following year.

In that second visit it felt much the same as the first. My reprieve had served the purpose of creating a nostalgia for my earliest days, and it was that nostalgia which made my return all the more rewarding.

I was once again reminded of how much there was for me to learn, the depth and complexity of the town. And so for the following year I stayed, learning the town and its people, befriending some of them. There were ups and down, scuffles with law, but for the most part I stayed. This year for the most part was characterized by that intense fun, fun interactions with friends and getting to know them.

But time passed. Friends left. And while I made and had many new ones there was always that sense of what I had lost, what I no longer had. I began to get involved in the foundation of the town, to form my own opinions. At first they were spontaneous and idiotic, and while to some degree they still are, they were honed and clarified by rejection and challenge. And I began to come into my own, to have a direction I wanted the town to take, one I could try and guide it in.

But mounting behind all of this was my inescapable hatred of the town I loved so. Perhaps spawned out of the frequency of those strange ones around the town, ones I would never interact with back home. Perhaps spawned out of the excessive time I spent in the town and away from home, the hatred I felt for myself for how long I was away. Perhaps because I did not enjoy the direction I saw my town taking. Or perhaps, and most likely, a combination of all 3.

Regardless, this feeling of resentment grew with time, its roots spread deeper and deeper. At times this monster that grew within me would rear its head, and I would cut or damage ties with those around me. And I became frustrated. And I became jaded. I hated those around me for being the way they are, the way I had been. I would be lying if I said these feelings did not characterize me in my third year, my current year.

I was the grizzled lion, my legacy and opinions refined with time, who was anyone to contest me? And while I was aware of the irony of these thoughts given my short amount of time in the town given the extent of its existence, they persisted. Thankfully it was my self acknowledged irony that kept me in line during this time, kept me from exercising my weak seniority.

And so these feelings grew, even back in 2018, and caused me to be reckless. I frequently tested the law because deep down I wanted them to banish me, to send me home. And at certain times I almost forced them to. However I eventually stepped away from that ledge and chose to leave the town of my own free will.

There was no extended hiatus that defined me. I took many and attempted many more. The feelings of anger and resentment began to morph into a quiet mourning for what I no longer had. Missing those early days and the brightness associated with them I forced myself away for decent periods of time. I walked the town by a different face, and found bliss in being unrecognizable, unknown. At times I would don the mask that they thought they knew me as, but only in those intense, manic moments of fun. They would recognize me when I wanted, and forget me when I felt so. I was a lonely God, wandering the streets I had tried so hard to force myself to forget. I answered to my whims and my whims alone.

And so time passed. I came and went. I went through those cycles of emotion numerous times, to varying degrees of intensity. I’m rather neutral at the current time, but the beast has its moments. To a certain degree I realize that the town has changed, slightly, ever so slightly, but changed nonetheless. And it will continue to change, whether I am there for it or not. I wonder if I will be remembered. I hope so. I find it fascinating to see those ancient Gods of the town shake their grizzled manes, walk amongst us young ones, no one truly knowing the richness of character and memories before them. It really is interesting.