I really enjoying this! Curious to see where you take the character development.

When my eyes fall on her, when she walks into a room I feel like I'm going to be sick. My stomach cramps, and my heart beats faster, and as she walks past the smell of her breathes back onto me in the gust of her wake and I take it in, lungs full... the sweetness of her perfume and the tartness of her shampoo.

I love the sound of her laugh, the solid happy sound that she makes. It doesn't tinkle and it doesn't shimmer. It's not delicate like she's not delicate. Its loud, and its clumsy. It stumbles its way through the air. Its a contagion spreading through everyone who hears it, infecting them, bringing them to tears.

Her hair is as chaotic as her eyes, it's messy and it never sits right. It curls, and it twists, and it flops, and sticks up and out in all the wrong places. It's never the same colour, its never the right colour, it's never the colour she wants.
And her eyes, they stop me sometimes to the point of still breath. It's not the colour, because there's nothing unusual in them. They are not cat eyes or slanted or dipped. But they penetrate everything. They read everyone as easily as one of her books, mountained behind her. They see everything, notice most things people find too irrelevant to remember. But she does, and its as clear as day. They crinkle perfectly at the edges, the faintest wrinkles in her youthful skin hinting at what might one day be laugh lines.

You can see the way she fears; she goes off on one, gibbering about something she loves, passion lighting up her eyes and her face, her smile... until she suddenly stops. Apologises.

"Sorry for boring you..." she back off slightly, curtailed even though the listener was giving her their attention avidly. Or when she's about to say something, ready to voice her opinion and her mind, brave it out, regardless of the reaction she will get. Everyone's allowed their opinion! But again, she stops. She's been spoken over too many times, trampled by someone else who believes theirs is more important, or really just doesn't give a fuck.

But all these little things, from her social anxiety to her stupidly changing and evolving laugh, to her scent and her constant bed-head hair. I love it. I love it because I care.

And I really wish someone would think of me like this.

Banham arl because everyone blames her. Muahahah!

I have minecraft on my xbox, but i watch a few gamers play on PC. They seem to need to refresh chunks sometimes, but it's usually when the chunks fails to load altogether, rather than whats happening with yours. I've never seen that before.

Since its a downloaded version there may be a problem within it - you tend to get less with a CD version. It could be something wrong with the file, or maybe just that a glitch needs updating.

Have you tried redownloading the game?

Yea, as much as I love it, technology sucks sometimes!

Silly question, but have you tried reloading your chunks?
And do you have the game on disk or downloaded? May be a problem in the file if you've downloaded it?
Or do you have lag?

 

 

So with that,

Banham to Arl for making it personal 

   It must be difficult for my social butterfly of a sister.
   She's young, and still its painfully obvious that we are total opposites. From the moment she was born we were opposites. She was an agitated babe, whilst I was apparently one that was content to sleep and gurgle my way through life. Growing up, she's so outgoing. She doesn't fear going up to to other children to make friends whereas I waited for them to approach me. She likes pink and frills, and I like blue and dirt pies.
   Sometimes I feel bad. All she wants is attention. She wants to talk and spend time with people to relax. I'm the total opposite; I want to spend time listening to music in a dark room on my own. I don't have the patience to deal with a seven year old normally, never mind when I don't feel like me. Piling stress from work influences, romantic influences, feeling restless because of my wanderlust the last thing I really want is to deal with an overtired seven year old.
   But its not really her fault. Like I said, she just wants attention. She doesn't get enough of it from mother dearest. Mother dearest is too busy. On her phone. Dealing with her midlife crisis. Not giving a shit what anyone else thinks. She shouts at my deprived sister, to show authority in front of people. Or if she doesn't immediately do as she's told. If she disturbs her time on her social media platforms. If she wasn't going to care for her all the time, if she was going to let her technological addiction, her addiction to the bleeps and the tones and the ringing of the device in her pocket then she shouldn't have had another child. And it kills me to say that because I love my sister. I love her so much. But I feel so sorry for her. Yet I can't conjure up enough sympathy to give her the love she needs herself. I don't have enough love in me for it.
   Arguing with mother dearest is useless. As useless as tits on a bull. Like a dog trying to catch its tail, you'd just be going round and round in circles going no where.

   So my lovely reader, what do I do? What do I bloody do? Can't fratch at her, it doesn't work. Yet can't find enough of me to give. Stuck in a faux-pas.
   It currently seems like the story of my life.