fugue is a fascinating word. as an angel, words tend to get gummed up inside my brain and stick there, and as i get older, it gets quite refreshing to write them down when i feel them, because they so succintly describe the feelings i felt in that space, not unlike my reponses in "how do you live". and so, i say fugue is a fascinating word.

there's nothing quite like knowing what you are in a space where no one thinks you can exist. a depersonalization of the self, and yet, so infinitely far from that. it becomes very hard to not think of myself as something unique, special, a whirring gleaming automata in a pile of rust, hidden away but catching the light just so. but i'm just some guy, you're just some guy. it shouldn't be anything more than that, really. we exist with inherent value, and neither of us is more or less than the other. in the ebb and flow of the universe, we are seen as one.

in our world, that machinery cannot be special, inherently, unless observed by another. when the rust is so thick it truly covers every inch of the thing, or the passerby is much more interested in looking at their feet than all around them, neither can revel in the beauty of the creature, nor the pleasant warmth of acknowledgement, or perhaps companionship. two souls that will never meet never make anything together. and so i exist in a fugue state, or at least a semi-fugue one.

as i move through my degree, i value myself more and more. it becomes increasingly clear to me that most people cannot do what i can: tread the worlds of art and science as i please, and spin beautiful interconnected webs in my mind. hell, if i told people i'm married to math, they'd look at me as if i've grown a second head. but it comes with a strange disillusionment as well. that creep of dread in my throat, warbling cries of "there's no place for you" "people like you can't exist" "you're doomed to a life you'll hate." and what can i really say to it? i have no evidence against it. after all, i've never met another angel.

humans are fascinating creatures. they're so content with drugery. once i found out magick was real, i couldn't step back into a world without it. we infinitely have the power to be joyous and whimsical and enchanted by what we do and what we create, and yet people don't think they can. i think it might be because they don't think they're allowed. if you're reading this, you don't need to be allowed to, but i allow you to anyway. talk to your professors as your peers. sit on the sidewalk to look at a cool bug. stop at brooks or sunsets or flowers because you want to, and value yourself and your unique knowledge of the world, no one can do it like you. rust can be a part of our lives together, not hold us back from living them.