SOS
February 75th,
Dear Diary,
Every morning I wake up and realize that I am still in this alternate universe. I spend most of my day trying to figure out how I got here, and more importantly how to get back to the place I belong. I have yet to find an answer or solution to my questions.
Vocabulary is currently the trickiest thing to navigate in this particular universe. When I say the word 'spring', I have in my head warming days where I can feel the sunshine. Of course there will be rain, but it is a warmer sort of rain that makes the plants grow. Here, in this universe, 'spring' means something different. Spring seems to be what they say when cold weather isn't in the negative digits. There is still snow and cold, and while I see the sun in the sky, I certainly cannot feel the warmth of it on my skin. I miss that!
So far, in my quest to figure out how to get home, I have tried wishful thinking, clicking my heels together and saying, "There's no place like home," wearing clothing appropriate to my universe's idea of spring weather, and pouting. None of these has returned me to the proper dimension, much less the proper temperature.
I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out. If I could figure out how to send a distress signal, perhaps a rescue team could figure out how to get through the barrier between dimensions and take me back. At the very least, perhaps they could send a supply of new winter clothes and hot cocoa in bulk amounts. I don't know how the residents of this dimension hold out in the face of this grinding and perpetually cold weather.
A frightening idea plagues my thoughts as I try to figure out a means of escape. What if there are not seasons in this universe? What if they just call groups of months by different names for ease of telling the passing of time? What if it never gets warm here? If this is truly the case, I may go truly mad.
Here they tell of mythical lands to the south where the temperatures are high enough that one can go outside without a coat. If I cannot return to my rightful home, perhaps I will venture forth in search of these mythical lands.
I will do my best to hold out for a while longer. Every night when I go to sleep, I comfort myself with the thought that I will somehow be magically transported home during the night, and will wake up to warmth and sunshine and leafy green spring. A soul can only take the crushing reality of this not happening so many times.
Until tomorrow,
Dear Diary,
Every morning I wake up and realize that I am still in this alternate universe. I spend most of my day trying to figure out how I got here, and more importantly how to get back to the place I belong. I have yet to find an answer or solution to my questions.
Vocabulary is currently the trickiest thing to navigate in this particular universe. When I say the word 'spring', I have in my head warming days where I can feel the sunshine. Of course there will be rain, but it is a warmer sort of rain that makes the plants grow. Here, in this universe, 'spring' means something different. Spring seems to be what they say when cold weather isn't in the negative digits. There is still snow and cold, and while I see the sun in the sky, I certainly cannot feel the warmth of it on my skin. I miss that!
So far, in my quest to figure out how to get home, I have tried wishful thinking, clicking my heels together and saying, "There's no place like home," wearing clothing appropriate to my universe's idea of spring weather, and pouting. None of these has returned me to the proper dimension, much less the proper temperature.
I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out. If I could figure out how to send a distress signal, perhaps a rescue team could figure out how to get through the barrier between dimensions and take me back. At the very least, perhaps they could send a supply of new winter clothes and hot cocoa in bulk amounts. I don't know how the residents of this dimension hold out in the face of this grinding and perpetually cold weather.
A frightening idea plagues my thoughts as I try to figure out a means of escape. What if there are not seasons in this universe? What if they just call groups of months by different names for ease of telling the passing of time? What if it never gets warm here? If this is truly the case, I may go truly mad.
Here they tell of mythical lands to the south where the temperatures are high enough that one can go outside without a coat. If I cannot return to my rightful home, perhaps I will venture forth in search of these mythical lands.
I will do my best to hold out for a while longer. Every night when I go to sleep, I comfort myself with the thought that I will somehow be magically transported home during the night, and will wake up to warmth and sunshine and leafy green spring. A soul can only take the crushing reality of this not happening so many times.
Until tomorrow,
Comments
Thanks for the smile (grimace?)