* Daemon or Dae
* They/Them
* Non-Binary
* Transfeminine
* Pink Floofy Folf
* Twenty Three

* System Administrator.
* Hobbyist Programmer.
* Silly Creature

:wheelchair: :b:edi :wheelchair: :b:ain :wheelchair: :b:oming :wheelchair: :b:hrough :wheelchair:
♿ 🅱️edi ♿ 🅱️ain ♿ 🅱️oming ♿ 🅱️hrough ♿

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If you've ever used SQL you know how important it is to avoid using SQL

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August 12th 2036, the heat death of the universe.

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"Apathy is death. Worse than death, because at least a rotting corpse feeds the beasts and insects." -Kreia

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You won't find the same person twice, not even in the same person

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I am a mosaic of everyone I've ever loved, even for a heartbeat.

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Cuz if the government can read my mind they know i'm thinking of you.

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But wait, this isn't how it happened.

No, we made our choices. We could have made better ones, but I don't have any regrets. You were a wonderful experience.

You were everything.

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I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

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And God
please let the deer
on the highway
get some kind of heaven.
Something with tall soft grass
and sweet reunion.
Let the moths in porch lights
go someplace
with a thousand suns,
that taste like sugar
and get swallowed whole.
May the mice
in oil and glue
have forever dry, warm fur
and full bellies.
If I am killed
for simply living,
let death be kinder
than man.

-Althea Davis

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Remember, remember, the fifth of November, the gunpowder treason and plot; I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.

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Hello, friend. Hello, friend. That's lame. Maybe I should give you a name. But that's a slippery slope. You're only in my head. We have to remember that.