I've been avoiding the site because the last time I was here, I had successfully brought a fan project idea to a couple of old users, and I had a secret forum going, and we were all set to fucking
do this thing—and as luck would have it I started busy season and my first really serious relationship—and the whole thing just got abandoned. I couldn't, and still cannot deal with the fact that my adult ambitions are utterly preempting the lingering desires I have here. There have been experiences, travels, things that have blown my mind beyond what I could gain by staying in what's comfortable, but it's not enough. I want time enough for both. I want to be able to pursue all my passion projects, as well as radical new growth, and there just is not enough time, and because of it, I committed that common sin of starting a fan project and completely vanishing.
I cannot fucking deal with it. I know, if I really tried, there'd be another ROM hack in me. I've matured so incredibly much since Crimson Echoes—just imagine if we were firing on all pistons! Some kind of ultimate mix of Chrono Trigger, Chrono Cross, and Radical Dreamers; imagine us pushing the ROM to its absolute limit of capacity, using everything we've learned; imagine us claiming the mantle of the concept of Chrono Break, making some kind of awesome, definitive godlike work that, like CE did, would bring people
out of the fucking woodwork across the Internet to relive the Chrono series and act as some kind of ultimate fuck-you to the total mediocrity plaguing all media these days—fuck!
Even to create something small in the meantime, like Prophet's Guile—just to see those characters come to life; just to have some little glimmer of Zeal in a MacGuffin; just to fucking acknowledge that it's 2018 and human Glenn is still out there somewhere off in our imagination—what an utter nightmare it is to admit that I don't, and virtually never will have the time to create fucking
any of this!!!!! It would be that magic point at which we could finally declare victory over the unfinished legacy, over the whole thing that got us in here in the first place—pouring every last viable idea we have into it!
UGH!!!!I'm going to update the site, but what an endless fucking torment and embarrassment it is to admit some kind of limit exists...
Of all my closer friends over the years, only three are even remotely still in touch with their grandiose dreams of Springtime: myself--and that comes with many asterisks; the former Compendiumite Syna, who just completed her master's degree and is still on track to become a professional writer; and another close friend of mine (a former girlfriend, who was never a Compendiumite), who loves horses and still owns her own business working with them. Everyone else who is now or was once dear to me has settled into an ordinary life, having made peace (or been forced into resignation) with giving up their dreams in favor of something more practical. This isn't to say that they're not happy (though some of them aren't), or successful financially (though some of them aren't), but, simply, that they traded in their grander dreams for the aspirations of home and hearth and stable careers. And some of them have made peace with that, and some of them, like yourself, haven't.
I am in this category. I am so tragically close to the goal that has defined me since 2008. I fear that "settling down" like I fear the concept of mediocrity itself, and it's going to ruin me. I achieved that love dream, and ultimately let it go because I still had to fight for something inside—the dream of going abroad; of proving myself; of finally building some kind of total faith and worth in myself. I am so close. One more year of struggle. Then something else will come. Life is only meaningfully lived between what one has already done, and what one might be yet able to achieve, and the goalpost is moved every single time tomorrow burns up into yesterday. That is the springtime of youth—worshiping the satisfaction of curiosity more than the comfort of the familiar. And it unfortunately never ends—if it did, it would lose its meaning to begin with. At some point I can only hope my dreams become bacchanalian and less tied to my own validation.
