Lore_Ethereal

Lore Ethereal is a chaotic new Vstreamer and Content Creator. She speaks a majority of English and Spanish with aims to learn other languages like Portuguese and French. She streams a variety of content from FPS Games, Puzzle Games, Horror Games, Multiplayer Experiences, and plans to stream Duolingo, writing, and reacts. Her channels, discord, and other places are filled with a bundling community of all sorts that all enjoy the chaotic bundle of energy that is Lore. Her content is geared towards mature audiences above the age of 17.

You’ve never had a thought about me before, but I have of you. To think of who you are and to think of where you came from is simple. You started somewhere, and every choice has brought you to your place. From start to end, you’ve always been there. So have I. I’ve always been here, you just never noticed me. Worship your gods, angels, deities and demons. I am not here for your following. I am here to do what I always have. Create. Write. I am Lore. I am the backstory of everyone and everything that has existed. You haven’t seen me before. You may notice me now. I have touched many stories, felt many heartbreaks, seen loss and seen life. To me, you can find beauty in every iteration of every passing moment. I may write stories but I’ve grown exhausted; with the woes of the many I’ve seen and the countless tales of love and war have let me down; I am done. Done with the mistakes of others when I’ve done is perfection. I do not claim to be those beings that you worship. I do not claim to hold much fondness after you’ve left my embrace. I do not claim these stories of love that all everyone seems to do is break. My view on the many books and characters that have grown from my impact causes me distress. I am done. I now come anew. Instead of being that high standing being that no one seems to ever see, working tirelessly on perfection on every timeline and every moment. I will now come forward. Gone are the days of being the silent one. Puppeteering and manipulating countless lives will now be put to rest. It seems as though, the effort I have released into existence has been a waste. The perfection I create has been tainted because when it leaves my hands it only becomes human, and to become human is to become imperfection. Where does everyone’s story start is a question you must ask the author. The author should know where they all began! Though be it the case for many, it is not for me. I don’t know where I came from nor how long I’ve been here I just know that I always have. It is different. I write this in honor of a new beginning. I grow tired, but not weak. I throw my heart on the table and confess; I say I am done but I am far from it. Let me tell you my story, for I have written stories upon stories, started and ended just as many, but I have never written my own. Though, fair warning; It doesn’t start at all, and doesn’t lead anywhere. But for you humans, I guess, living in the present is all you have. So, I come to you with my present, I come to you with what you perceive as ‘right now’. I sound foolish, I know. I boast about writing perfection and blame humanity for its imperfection; however right now I am writing in my most imperfect form. Imperfection, imperfection. To repeat that word and having my thoughts drizzle out of me just like you. You, the human. You, the reader. I favor you all, because I find you all to be just perfect imperfections. I watch all of you, going through your day, living your lives in such a short timely manor. I live without time, without a place. I live in what I call The Creator’s Box. It is just me here, it gets quite lonely. There is no time but I see the past, I experience the present, and I write the future. As prior mention, I have worked tirelessly on each and every story that has come across my path. I have pushed perfection at its peak and you all have returned me with nothing but mistakes, heartbreak, and your humanity. It humbles me. I see what I give and I feel what is brought back. It wounds me that I give you love so pure, and you bring me back such travesty. Love at first sight, soulmates, every form and trope I have brought you has been skewered and tossed aside. Why is that, I ask but I ultimately know the answer. Humanity. First and foremost, I have to accept humanity and that as much love, care, and beauty the world has there is also the opposite. I guess I’ve been selfish, keeping myself far from you all and blaming you at your core without understanding. I ramble, I know. I hang my crown, or rather step away from being this… I wonder what to call myself, for I am not a god, an angel, a demon, a deity, nothing to deserve your following. I am just that, a being who writes existence, yet does not exist. Where to begin? Writing myself seems hard. I am perfect and perfection is unachievable. Once I let my writing reach you, it is not longer the perfection from my mind, it is just the words you read on a page. To those who have been curious enough to find out more, I commend you. I commend you and your efforts to discover exactly where all stories started. I write often, though I am not connected with time I do understand it. All of your stories are short lived, for someone who has not lived at all. I can appreciate the sentiments of your great leaders who have built and attempted, though failed, to continue and long live their legacy. I can see that when your life is over, you have kept it alive in your arts, your stories, your children, and your structures. You all find it beautiful but I find it feeble. Feeble in the way that, your story will always live on, and will always be there because I have read it. I am here. I am here, to the point where everything humanity has created has been seen, felt, and loved.