Zeta Syanthis @zetasyanthis@awoo.space

**You pet the small robotic dragon.
**The small robotic dragon purrs contentedly, a sound like Windows 95 swapping.

Your fear is a slithering electric snake, arcs and sparks of plasma spidering around the room. It hurts to touch and you avoid it when you can but in time, you discover that you need only to be grounded for it to power you, though finding what grounds you is a new task each time.

Happiness is not something you thought you had. You realize you were searching for a canary yellow light, or an orange tongue of flame, when happiness is clear and fresh and cool and everywhere. When you find it, it is like remembering how to breathe, and you cherish each inhale.

You found your anger hard to discover. Years of quelling and quashing has made it a condensed sphere of a thing, a neutron star of ignored slights and false thank yous. When those who seek to take advantage call, you unleash its heat, not realizing how much it weighed.

You attempt to keep your sadness at arm's length when depression calls it close, but sadness too gets lonely, and its cries from across the room are cool and wet and sharp. To keep it calm is to keep it close sometimes, to hug it tight until it quiets.

You find you cannot befriend depression, because it is already your friend. A sulky, slinky grey sort of thing, prone to draping across your shoulders and tangling your legs. You find the best cure is patience and kindness, eventually even it smiles sometimes.

You solved your insomnia by asking the monster under the bed what kind of drinks he likes. You expected human blood or the tears of children, and were surprised to find it was plum tea. The porcelain teacup looks odd against his vanta black fur, clinking against shadowsharp teeth