welcome to storybrooke ❧ network community

This is wrong. It isn't right. None of it is right.

Quiet. It's too quiet. So quiet it's louder than anything. That's a paradox. Quiet can't be loud except when it is. I don't like it here. I miss the sky. There's too much sound and the air tastes funny and it's all wrong. The ground feels wrong. It's too steady but everything's shifting. It makes my head hurt. I need to be in the black. It's too solid here. Loud where it should be quiet and quiet where it should be loud. This is why you aren't supposed to meddle with things.

It's all muddled. They meddled. There's always meddling. Shouldn't meddle, but they do. Can't leave well enough and it all turns to dust and ash. They can't know. Picking and pecking. Tearing at the threads until it all comes apart. Just apple bits left. You aren't supposed to play with things like this. Threads are invisible, but they're stronger than steel and they'll choke you if you aren't careful. We're stuck. Tethered. A different center of gravity. It picks and pecks. Clawing in my brain like tiny pinching fingers. Digging in and stabbing with little knives. All of it's wrong. I'm trying to work it out, but the equation doesn't work. Too many variables. It hurts my head to think about it.

Not safe. It's not safe to wander off alone, he says. But how can you wander when there's no one to wander from? Logical fallacies and paradoxes. Simple Simon. Wandered because he isn't here, but can't wander because there isn't anyone to wander from. I'd follow the breadcrumbs back but there aren't any. The birds ate them all. They'll get stomachaches.

How uneasy I feel.

I know some of the stories here. I've heard before, but I haven't. And you can talk from faraway on this. It carries through electricity. Like magic.

It makes noises like clicking when you push letters. I like that.

Some of the people here walked out of stories into a world that's more real to people here, and less to them. I wish Varric was here. Maybe he could meet his stories and see them the way he does in his head.

What is ice cream? A woman with her heart in pieces told me I should have some when I said he still cared.

Hello people whose faces I know. And people whose faces I don't know. The faces don't matter so much, but it's nice to see the same ones sometimes.

This place is quite different from Lothering. It is a lot to take in.

A woman gave me this box and showed me how to use it. She said it was a means to communicate with people. She also said that she thought my sister might be here.

Marian? Are you here? Are Carver and Mother here too?

It's sad that this place has thrown me for a loop because things are not terrible here. I'm not even sure that I'm alive. I could have died in that car crash. I'd be okay with that. At least Beth would be alive

I'm Carol.

Snow just reminded me that I forgot to do this.  I've been a bit busy, sorry.

( cut for picture )

Her name is Ruth.  I'm in love.