I feel endless hiraeth when I think about the server all the way back then. To what I’m not even sure I can call a beginning.
When it was just those original eight and how the server was less their place (especially to own) but a place they lived with.
Innate mutual aid.
The softer sides of anarchy often ignored.
A childhood that bleeds.
The nostalgia in everything done and said.
A sky so wide, such an engulfing expanse, that it didn’t matter if there were any clouds in it.
Welcoming in- not staving away- the darkness with controlled (but never truly really) bonfires.
It was your body turning into dust against an already dusty earth and you finding something so solid and certain and affirming in that.
It was rubbing mosquito bites softly into the side of anthills.
Calluses and cuts building up simultaneously along with skin thickness.
Bare toes poking back at the grass.
Pond protection and ocean cleaning.
A mix of juices always running down the chin.
Cheeks hurt from always smiling and stinging from being (consensually, playfully) pinched.
Chest spasms and stomach aches that hurt in a sort of good way like getting a bruise while playing sports.
Heart being let ache with the body.
A bit that broke every few seconds but we kept trying to carry it on.
Until it all goes numb.
It was falling asleep with the stars, hearing
Atomic fireworks through the wind.
It was the silent companionship in loud lingering words.
It was a “at least for now” and “we have time.”
More than it ‘could be enough’ but rather that it already is.
Grappling with reality with life with other beings the fullness of it and them.
It was self actualization self recognition self acknowledgment self respect.
It’s knowing that it will not last forever but being glad it was there at all.
It was knowing you need more than love is and that you will always deserve better.
Accepting you don’t love yourself, not yet, maybe someday, and you can and will stand up for yourself anyhow.
There was never even a chance to mourn.
To recognize the extent of violation and bastardization when constantly facing the throes of nationalism.
So I’m here feeling sad.
