TWITTER: Life Is Strange in Book Five: Working Through the Maze 2018

I’ve hit the final chapter of Life is Strange and… even though I was never a teenage girl in the Pacific Northwest who attended an elite private Art School because of my photography skills… shit, this game speaks to me!

Weird awkward Artsy kid does her best to make friends, protect people, and live her life while having the gift to re-write time? Funny thing (that I never would have expected from myself) is that I don’t have to rewind time all that often. My natural instinct to make friends, defend the less fortunate, and persistently push for the truth is helping me in spades in this game. If only Real Life had been more like this. If only caring about people and trying to be authentic had any fucking value when I was growing up.

I’m not trying to be an Every Day Hero (one of the themes of the game)… I’m just playing this game the way I would have gone through life. Care about others. Rise to whatever challenge presents itself. Look out for students that you share life with. Whether wealthy socialite or burnt out pot head. That was legitimately my High School experience. I had a friend whose house probably retailed for several hundred thousand dollars… the same year, I had a friend whose house probably retailed for so little I could have bought it with my savings account! True but I don’t say that to be a dick. I just say that because..... in High School, I wasn’t popular. I was a “shit swimmer” and a “theater geek” and an “orchestra geek” and that is all I was. But I put myself out there as the guy to talk to if you needed help. Of the VERY FEW people I still talk to from High School… that can be broken down as follows:
(1) People who were high or drunk constantly who needed my help to navigate every day
(2) Fellow Theater Kids who wanted to pick my brain or cast me in their production
(3) Ultra Compassionate People who told me (before graduation) that they hoped I would find a life of my own and not be so anchored towards helping people that only wanted to hurt me.

That was my High School Life. I’m slowly (but surely) finishing my Narrative Therapy entry. An entry that, I promise you, will make all of you understand me better… hate me more… and explain everything. But as I work through that… it doesn’t cover THIS. At least… not as explicitly.

I grew up a kid that wanted to help other people. During that time, I was often bullied severely. Even despite that bullying, I wanted to help people and I was open about my sexual wants and desires. However, to some people’s chagrin, I was also dedicated to waiting until I met the woman I wanted to marry. So.... I was a constant dichotomy. I could describe in specific detail what I wanted sexually… and I could meet people who promised me they would give me my specific desires… but I would pass.

(Shit. Fell asleep while working on this, ha! As I’m out of whatever flow I was trying to go for as I was writing, I’ll just post this and move on. Posting because… why not, I want you to read it. Just… not entirely sure what I was trying to say.)