The Sunday Archives, Vol.2, No.5
My dear reader,
how have you been faring during these past two weeks? I hope life has treated you with the grace you deserve, and that you find yourself in a state of contentment?
You must forgive my absence and the missing entry from last week, my dear friends. The realm has been in a state of upheaval, and I required a moment to reassemble the pieces of my life – including myself.
As it happens, the metamorphosis into an entirely new version of oneself presents a series of trials, each more challenging than the last, that demand strength I am only now beginning to master.
Last week, the realm was met by heavy rain, and the roof of the palace surrendered to its weight. The night was a restless affair. the calming silence murdered by the rhythmic, maddening persistence of dripping water. The furry Head of State found no peace, and I fared no better. A delightful circumstance, wouldn’t you agree?
By morning, the necessary help was summoned, and the exhaustion of the night gave way to a clattering, chaotic dawn.
For a neurodivergent soul such as mine, I must confess, the entire ordeal was most unsettling.
That same evening, the palace and the realm alike were swallowed by a blackout. Surprisingly, I found myself welcoming the darkness. There is a rare, profound stillness that arrives when the world’s noise is extinguished. A moment where the mind can finally rest by the flame of a candle.
I felt quite disappointed when the power was revived so quickly, forcing me once again to endure the relentless buzzing of modern devices.
A deep cleaning of the apartment – forgive me – the palace is currently underway as well. I had become increasingly aware of a restlessness within me born from the clutter of previous years, a weight upon my chest that made it feel as though I could scarcely breathe. There is an undeniable satisfaction in the act of cleaning – scrubbing every forgotten corner, establishing new structures, and finally permitting myself to discard the old.
A brief report on the Head of State: she continues to thrive in her typical fashion – naps, vocal complaints, occasional theatrical fits, and frequent protests for an increased tuna allowance.
As for myself… I am holding my own. I must confess that my own ‚ecdysis‚ is a lingering affair, but I feel the steady, daily integration of my new self as the old skin falls away.
Until next time,
the realm must be ruled.