Baraev Neu Wereld

Still not sleeping. But that's probably my fault.

There's in my mind a mountain, now. It's blue. To what we've arbitrarily decided is the north face it's hilly with forest patches, while to the south it's steep and rocky. It has a small, snow-capped spire where Skeleton and the haich live. Despite their past rivalries we haven't heard any trouble from them. I wonder if they've finally come to a peaceful settlement.
To the north are the Broken Plains, a series of rolling grassy plains with large cracks and gashes running across it. Strange creatures like bulls roam it. To the east is the Dredge, a wet and slimy swamp. There's a massive ship mostly submerged in it, the bow sticking out at a crazy angle. To the south is the Chasm. It's a bad place. Southeast are the Rocks, which are pretty much just rocks. To the west there is possibly the Hanging Forest, consisting mostly of mushrooms, but since this was reported by Prophet in one of his moods it's entirely possible this was a hallucination.
To the northwest there's a second mountain, tall and narrow. The land around it is barren, storm clouds surround it, and the sky fades to a grim purple. Dark birds circle it, its peaks are jagged, and built into the side is an unmistakable Doom Fortress. It is Grandfather's Mountain. It is also a bad place.
And so much of this brave new world remains undiscovered. We have to explore it, and quickly. Away from the peak only Styx, Wraith, Prophet and IMPACT have been found. We don't know where the others are. It's possible they're in danger, absurd as that may sound. We have to find them. Soon.

I'm so sick of spiritual healing.
Healing is for each person what they need it to be. For most it's a painkiller, allergy medication, or even a placebo. Whatever it takes to keep that person happy and functioning. For me it's like heart surgery. Being touched by God feels like having my innards cut apart and stitched back together. I know, it's all in the name of making me better, but it hurts. Words can't describe how much it hurts. And it serves as a constant reminder that I need to be fixed. Sometimes I wonder if being healed is really worth this. I think about cutting myself free and letting myself bleed.
But of course. I can't do that.

I'm not a bad person. Just a little misguided.
And I like to destroy things.

But come now, enough of this pessimistic banter! It's nearly Christmas. True, it's become a facade of commercialism in recent years and historically it should be celebrated in the middle of March, but this is still the time for peace and love and goodwill toward men. And political correctness be damned. Just over two thousand of our years ago a man was born who completely changed the face of the earth. Show me anyone else in the whole of history who was so important that their birthday is so celebrated after that long.
In honor of that, I pledge to not speak another pessimistic or depressing word for the next few days. This is a happy time. Or else. There'll be not talk of chaos, or self-harm, and absolutely none of heartbreak. Let us be joyous. Now.

If you don't hear from me till then, a Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good afternoon. Share the love.