well, the thing is...i'm still alive. i know, i know. it may come as a surprise, given how completely i've managed to ghost myself right out my life. for someone usually so determined to vanish, i suppose it's only appropriate i should endeavor to resurface now that we're on the precipice of tumblr's potential shuttering, but i've kinda had this spooky little habit forever (i ran, kurt) and it's gotten particularly, um, troublesome in the last couple of years...
see, it's almost like, as i've deleted myself off the internet, i've also deleted myself from the whole of my life too. i've stopped writing, i've stopped dreaming, i've stopped engaging in the things that i once loved. i've stopped wanting, i guess, is the best way to put it–wanting to be and wanting to be seen.
okay, so that's melodramatic. i can assure anyone listening that there's nothing to be, you know, worried about (not that i've earned the right of anyone's concern). maybe it's not really an accurate characterization anyway, seeing as how i'm still here so i must want for something, but that is how it's felt more often than not. there've been moments that i've fallen so far down the well of dark days that i've doubted the existence of even the smallest eclipse of light to look up towards.
[and of course my first and last instinct here is not to reach out to anyone at all but instead to turn inwards, to run away from everyone who might care–for fear of burdening others mostly, and a few more solipsistic reasons we need not get into here.]
idk that all sounds worse than it actually is. this isn't an ao3 author's note, i'm not here to declare i've just returned from prison or some other bout of absurd incapacitation, but it's just that once you go a day without talking, then it somehow becomes a week, then a month, and before long, you're left wondering how to speak at all.
i do still sew, that is one thing i've not lost in the haze of a years-long depressive haze, and like a particularly delicate linen, my life has frayed.
i am frayed.
but there are other little things that have kept me sane over the last few months (and years before that, too): lady gaga, kurtandblaine, the unsullied joy of my niece and nephew who don't yet know the world they'll inherit, a well-timed text message, glimpses of a life i once imagined living, the softsoftsoft back of of baxter's ears, crisp clean sheets, gratitude that keeps my head above water, thinking of my sweet sweet molly who will never see just how ugly the world's become, and of course, there's always the stubborn, naive hope that this too shall pass.
anyway, the point is: i think it's probably time to make myself visible again. just a little existential opacity, if you will. you know, as a treat.
and yes, i realize that ~reemerging on a relatively anonymous blogging site that may or may not self-implode in the matter of months is a pretty cowardly declaration, but if we're being generous, it could be a first step, right? of course there will be no twitter or instagram or any other such platform to find refuge, lost as they are to those evil little corporate oligarchs, and maybe i'll just lurk here as i've always done, but it still felt like i owed an explanation–even if it's only to myself. after all, to put words to paper (or to keyboard) remains the only way to make anything even remotely real to my silly little brain.
so, well, here we are.
that's all there is to it, i suppose. i hope to soon have the wherewithal to more concretely contend with the wreckage left in the wake of *gestures wildly at everything and nothing*, but for now, my queue is full and i hope one day my heart will be, too.
i mean, the show's gotta go all over the place or something, right?
sensibles, if you're reading this, please know i think of you near daily and i am the most sorry for (and rather embarrassed by the selfishess that is), you know, vanishing. oh, and snix, if you're reading this, no you're not.
