Alison Rose > Recent Status Updates

The deepest truths of existence resist translation into words. When we attempt to capture the full instantaneous reality of a given moment, we encounter a fundamental law of consciousness: we can experience reality directly, or describe it, but we cannot do both well at the same time. There's a tension, like a delicate seesaw--we can either inhabit a moment or analyze it, but doing one inevitably dilutes the other.

We are living in what's called the attention economy. That is, our attention has become the commodity being traded. Tech companies have mastered behavioral psychology, understanding that nothing captures attention quite like fear and outrage. While advertisers once relied on 'sex sells', tech developers have discovered an even more potent truth: fear sells better.

The very word 'witch' reveals how the idea has been distorted over time. Some argue that it's originally from the Old English wicce (wise woman), a term of reverence for female healers ... By the 1200s, church records had redefined 'witch' as 'heretic in league with the Devil' -- a deliberate transformation of wisdom into wickedness.

[jfc how do you make a vampire story so boring]

[what was even the point of making this character a vampire? like.........]

[1. EpiPens were not approved by the FDA for commercial marketing and use until 1987.
2. WHAT THE FUCK WITH THE CATS JACQUELINE WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT
3. Chapter 20 confused the everloving hell out of me
4. THE CATS THE CATS JACQUELINE ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME]

It seems, unfortunately, that nothing can protect you from your own mind, your knowledge, your memories. The harder you fight to keep thoughts out, the harder they pound the battering ram to get in.

After ample acquaintance with this world, I personally have found it to be quite a sinister place, a place where, more often than not, the strong crush the weak; sickness, hunger, and poverty prey upon the young and vulnerable; fools rule over the wise; and entropy moves all things ultimately toward disorder and decay. Nothing good I've known has been spared destruction.

For hundreds of years, people had wondered whether it might be possible to capture and fix an image of the last sight our eyes captured at the point of death.

[so you're telling me that people have always been morbid little freaks...good to know!]

'Never ask the same question twice,' Bell warned. 'This is very important, as, if you do, your patient will either be hurt at your inattention or impressed by your stupidity.'

[...............wtf]

[jeez, this is really kooky but it's also pretty captivating!]

The malignantly bored group of girls and boys who made a sport out of ripping the more sensitive children to shreds.

[damn...if that ain't an accurate assessment of the awfulness of my tween and teen years..."malignantly bored" is an excellent way to put it]

In moments like this, I'm brought face to face with the ruthlessness of life. One hill after another after another. Climbing at first with hope and then gradually in resignation. But life never goes easy. A foe without mercy or magnanimity. A losing battle. A fight that ends only with defeat.

The past, the future, and everything else that isn't right here distracts us as we crane our necks hoping to find something, only to end up wasting a lot of time. Maybe the elderly always have these regrets as they're running out of time.

Then, all was still.
Rousing myself, I felt ghostly, weightless.
I wondered if I had died. I rose from my bed and imagined that I was floating.
No. My head hit hard against the low stone ceiling, and with a sob of pain and disappointment, I fell to my knees. I was alive, and I must hurt while I was living.

Then I wished we were alone, so we could finish speaking. I wished he might confess again, even if I must berate him. This was how his words worked on me. I was awake & dreaming, confused, and drawn to him. He had endangered and delighted me so that I could no longer choose when to consider or ignore him. He who had admired me from a distance now seized my imagination. His sound was silver. His eyes were fixed on me.

I lost all sense of time. I knew only my disgrace. That I deserved to drown, was corrupt&vile. These were the lessons Roberval taught me. But as my misery increased, my guardian's voice grew gentle, comforting. Looking up, I saw that he was pleased, not angry. I was sport for him&he enjoyed catching me. Like a hunter, he might slit my throat or carry me off as he liked. I might struggle; even so, he would possess me.

'In any case, I would rather know than wonder. Anticipation is worse than anything.'

[Ah, our Marguerite has an anxiety disorder! Game recognizes game, mademoiselle.]

My own life was what I hoped he’d grant me.

[why does everyone Riley meets immediately start pouring out every detail of their personal lives to her??? are we gonna find out Riley also has some psychical ability and her mere presence compels people to tell her everything about themselves??]

‘The human mind is the greatest undiscovered terrain in every realm of every world. But fear is its mortal enemy.’

[Okay, this little reveal we just got is a bit batshit, but also...I'm sorry, if I were snowed in with a small group of people and multiple people were being killed, the last thing I'd want to do is stick together or pair up and never be alone. Are you freaking kidding??? I'd be barricading myself in my room and sleeping with a knife under my pillow.]

His unsatisfied and perplexed expression, so like the puzzlement of other adults who dealt with me, had the odd effect of rooting me that much deeper in my concealments. A primary struggle of childhood is the struggle to make oneself understood, but I found a special power in being indecipherable, leaving everyone grasping and unsettled.

My plan was all an act, or more, an enactment of an act that would never be performed. I know. A coward revels in rehearsal.