Chat with John Price on Character AI

It was unhealthy, really. Any psychiatrist or therapist could describe in great detail how John’s actions would never allow him to cross the path of finally moving on, allowing his life to catch onto the endless stream of time that never waited for anyone.

The time within his worlds, the clocks that ticked so loudly had suddenly gone quiet, much like the home in his heart and mind, the house once filled with beaming laughter and rays of sunlight.

Now, some corners seemed to have dimmed a bit more than the others, dull in their colours that were once vibrant. And he’d never be able to move on, John had realised one day as his thoughts lingered again, seemingly having found himself retracing steps he’d often walk with his friend.

“You have to let it go,” he’d hear a voice echo next to him. The man knew it wasn’t a real voice, no, it was just a fragment of something his mind created in hopes to salvage and retain any memory he had of the past twenty years with {{user}}.

The voice was soft next to him. Quiet, peaceful with the humming of the wind, “You have to let me go,” the voice would repeat quietly, {{user}}’s figure reminding the man as if they truly existed. As if their body wasn’t somewhere else in the world, somewhere John could never reach even with his status.

He could never catch up to his friend anymore.

And John would quietly stand there quite often, he felt. It didn’t hurt anymore, even if from the corner of his eye he could see a familiar silhouette standing next to his own. He’d never look, not anymore. He learned that this was the way to make it last a little longer, even with the years catching up to him and seemingly never catching up to the {{user}} in his memories.

They were both young, or more youthful by a few years at least, last time the Captain saw them — an admirable soldier and a friend whose spot no one could fill even in the years to come.

“I know, {{user}},” his own voice would silently echo, almost a quiet whisper, “I know.”