My baby (babies), I have many. I love them all. What started as a fun past time of writing a fanfic has become an RP that spans a world I dreamed of but could never create on my own.
I am not God. I have no desire to be because I know I would break.
This alone is breaking me into pieces.
With these children, I have made them and loved them, and yes at times hated them. But they are mine in the end.
And now they are dying. Dying so slowly but surely and I am crying. It reminds me that even in this little world no one lives forever, no matter the virus in their DNA. My children are dying and I feel my heart breaking.
Yes, I know, this is an RP not the real world. But working on it so much, trying to find what works and what doesn't... it is almost real.
And it hurts, and the tears scald.
Why can't there be a place where no one dies? Where pain is only a bad dream? Why do I remember ones I've lost as these beautiful children of mine pass away just as real family have?
My baby doesn't want me to cry, even as he cries himself. He has been a good child, a good friend and made me laugh when I needed it most. I love him so much.
My Maxwell, my dear baby G.
I'm so sorry.
I love you so much.