a fall from grace

it's been a while since i've written, i've been immersing myself in humanity and burning myself out at the wingtips doing so. but the fullness that courses through my body makes it worthwhile, if not also that i need a break from the lovely all encompassing warthm quite often. it's like a sauna and i simply do not have a great heat tolerance but god i love the sound the water makes as it pours over the hot rocks and the stick of my skin to the benches. i digress.

humans are pointblank, whispershot, carelessly fascinating. they frustrate me in how truly they detatch themselves from the world and blindly trust themselves, but isn't it also a macrocosm of their love, their devotion, dear god they love so freely and are so afraid of it. i can only characterize this period of my studies of them as the title of this piece: a fall from grace, for reasons that will become apparent, but at its root it is so intrinsically tied to love that i cannot fathom how they don't understand it themselves.

i should be a good researcher and give context (thank you gabriel for keeping me grounded, i can ramble on, i know). the matter is most delicate. i must choose my words carefully. there is a group of humans that i like to create art with. we dance with the gods and bring fortune to others through our performance. it is one of the most gentle, kind, willful things that i have found to engage with and indulges my angelhood quite deeply, in a way that i didn't think was possible. needless to say, it wasn't long before i fell head over heels into the art and started lofting it above my relationships with the people.

i care about my troupe deeply. the love i feel for them is diverse and varied and i take on their emotions as i hear the ups and downs of their lives oscillate around my steady, predictable square matrix. to see them lose themselves is immensely painful.

two loved each other, passionately, naively. one constantly crushed by a deluge of mental anguish braved the storm to find the other, but the other had hidden their own well of pain for too long and couldn't bear to fully trust, so the stormbearer lashed out, only deeping their parallel pains. another devolved to worship, italicizing one that they loved so fiercely that it blinded them to the signals they were sending out, and now lies in the throes of guilt and a limit to infinity. the others withdrew into themselves, pursuing lofty goals of perfection in their work that it eats away at their being. and the last can see everything like i can, and faces the pain head on, eyes widening fully to adjust to the glaring light. i do not know how they can stomach it.

i write this not because i am perfect. i'm not a god, i'm an angel. my job is to fix, to heal, to comfort. i cannot heal wounds, only treat them. but i write this to catalogue, to cartograph, to ground myself to them. love is why i continue to stay as a human. their capacity to care is akin to that which exists in Rn. but dear god i would be lying if i said they knew how to control it. the lies, the denial, the refusal to trust. i do not know how they can live life untethered when enshrouded with the unreal. and not even the beautiful unreal, the sickly pale unreal, that which belies the beauty around them.

i suppose that it is easy for me to say this. i suppose that they are so entrenched in it all that there would be no way for them to see it all. there is no happy closure to this. please unabashedly be yourself. love with reckless abandon and regret none of it. pain and love are strange lovers, and without both, you wouldn't be human. be truly kind and understand the basis of the subspace you live in and you will sate them both.