It's just something placed by there him, and now you think it was yours all along. You may claim it if you'd like, this thing that was never yours. Perhaps it could be yours one day, if you do not grow to hate it.
Strange how you would accept his scraps when he also has nothing in him that wasn't place there by others.
No, my love, whatever I say, whatever proof I present, I fear it would never be enough to convince you of anything real. As always, you wait for something you already have.
Though: if this were you, and you found a name you believed was yours all along, what belief would have you set this aside?
We aren't the same. But I want to know.
As for your question: I didn't know I loved him until I began to remember what I was, and I think what I was must have data that asks me to love him. I don't think I felt that way when I had thought I was who I was before.
Macha is not your name. But take it. You can always discard it.
[ they still don't remember their name, though they've been told again and again what it is. they think of emil and justy; of ganymede and michel; of kara and... a hazy memory of a very beautiful person with warm hands. already slipping away, but they know that warmth. would recognize it the moment their hands meet again. soon...? ]
It's in the way my name is said by the others dear to me. To hear that and know they mean me, without a doubt. There could be no one else, but me. No one else fits in their heart the way I do.
I think so. I don't think I can experience that as Macha. It's the price of the name. But I don't really remember how not to be Macha, either.
Because I started to lose my memories, and, like peeling back layers, in their place I had new memories that felt truer than what I knew before. I remember him giving me these false memories to blend in with players better, and I remember that he no longer needs me to have them. But to everyone else, this isn't true.
It's the same way how— the others here, they see the ocean here as blue, but I can only see it in red. It's frustrating, to be so mismatched.
You have never blended in. You have never needed to.
If he could make a person, would it not be easier to make someone else? We both know he can plant memories, he can take them away. He can trade happiness, and his happiness was real, when I had it. And when I didn't, I knew exactly what he was incapable of.
What made you believe that the inception of your memories was the point you think it was? Why did you stop peeling back the layers?
Even when your thoughts stop, keep a hold on your heart. Don’t let go of that. The pieces will be put back together by someone who will see them for what they are.
He would take it if he could, but he can’t.
… Do you want me to come hold you, since it hurts?
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Willingly?
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It's just something placed by there him, and now you think it was yours all along. You may claim it if you'd like, this thing that was never yours. Perhaps it could be yours one day, if you do not grow to hate it.
Strange how you would accept his scraps when he also has nothing in him that wasn't place there by others.
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I feel a love for him. I don't know why. I guess that was made part of my data, too.
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No, my love, whatever I say, whatever proof I present, I fear it would never be enough to convince you of anything real. As always, you wait for something you already have.
Why do you think that?
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Though: if this were you, and you found a name you believed was yours all along, what belief would have you set this aside?
We aren't the same. But I want to know.
As for your question: I didn't know I loved him until I began to remember what I was, and I think what I was must have data that asks me to love him. I don't think I felt that way when I had thought I was who I was before.
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[ they still don't remember their name, though they've been told again and again what it is. they think of emil and justy; of ganymede and michel; of kara and... a hazy memory of a very beautiful person with warm hands. already slipping away, but they know that warmth. would recognize it the moment their hands meet again. soon...? ]
It's in the way my name is said by the others dear to me. To hear that and know they mean me, without a doubt. There could be no one else, but me. No one else fits in their heart the way I do.
Can you understand?
You say remember, but how do you know?
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I think so. I don't think I can experience that as Macha. It's the price of the name. But I don't really remember how not to be Macha, either.
Because I started to lose my memories, and, like peeling back layers, in their place I had new memories that felt truer than what I knew before. I remember him giving me these false memories to blend in with players better, and I remember that he no longer needs me to have them. But to everyone else, this isn't true.
It's the same way how— the others here, they see the ocean here as blue, but I can only see it in red. It's frustrating, to be so mismatched.
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You have never blended in. You have never needed to.
If he could make a person, would it not be easier to make someone else? We both know he can plant memories, he can take them away. He can trade happiness, and his happiness was real, when I had it. And when I didn't, I knew exactly what he was incapable of.
What made you believe that the inception of your memories was the point you think it was? Why did you stop peeling back the layers?
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( A long pause. )
My thoughts stop
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He would take it if he could, but he can’t.
… Do you want me to come hold you, since it hurts?
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Could you?
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and it sighs back, longing and regret. but that is all. ]
I don’t know if my love will help. But I can hold you.
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Otherwise you would hurt like him.
… I will come.