Can’t stop thinking about the FFVII remake. I want to be excited but VII was the fandom that Campaign #DF grew on and it feels like the release date, the inevitability of new blood, is falling on me slowly, pressing my lungs out flat. Knowing [] shares fandoms, that we run the same circuits, my knees lock all over again, imagining them speaking of me, reminiscing of our grand adventures, and I want to be sick, feverishly wish for the headache to coalesce into an emptied stomach and shaking knees, but it doesn’t come, there’s no relief from mind in body. And they don’t know, they don’t know, they don’t know.
The logs are a foreign country. I see myself at 14, 15, 16, so goddamned *amenable* and eager to please that I never asked questions, and I go “when was I like this, was I ever this incautious” and every time I didn’t stop it I try to understand how, try to understand where the pivot point was, try not to understand that one wasn’t needed, that I was simply that much of a fucking mark. I sit in my memories as a trespasser, stare at the cracked paint, the faded sandpaper-rasp of the kitchen table scraping my legs, and I think “there was a window box” and the dust breathes back nothing like it, lists the Cycle in sawdust tongues and I try and I try and I try
try to be the adult I needed and realize there is no speaking to the child I was anymore
and wish someone else could make up both our minds
If I had realized it would have stopped
why do I feel like that isn’t the case for you?