On writing (off writing?)

I have been writing a _lot_ of stuff that is not for posting over here, which is interesting, because I am typically so much of an open book.

I mean, the other half is that life continues to be largely boring under the pandemic, and there's just not that much day-to-day to write, especially not during the (lovely!) four day weekend where I actually got to just not do anything for the first time in several weeks. But I wrote things about the Denizens and religion/magic and relationships and poetry and all of that is stuff that *does* come out sometimes, but it's also like...stuff that tends to be held closer to the heart.

(Someday I will finish some poems --I have one on my phone that I open every once in a while to poke at and really should just try and turn into one of my Sonnets¹-- and then I can probably try and post them, but also I am...weirdly squirrely about my (super rare) attempts at poetry.)

I'm still here. School is _a lot_. Other things are also _a lot_ but they're moving along. I've finished my words for tonight (that poetry attempt and also the DnD notes so I can eat some ice cream and chill for forty minutes or so before having to go to bed, and I am grateful for that.

I hope you're doing well. You have my love.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I think I have two sonnets that need writing? Sounds right. For the other one I can probably repurpose the title of that mixtape I never quite finished.

Anyways, the reference here is that several years ago I sat down and wrote a sonnet for each of my exen. I was genuinely pleased to reread them just now and find out I don't actually hate any of them!

[therapy] blah

Trigger Warning for rape, emotional abuse, mostly mentioned with dark humour and obliquely but some more direct

( Having finished writing, it doesn't get that bad, but have a cut regardless )

Anyways, that's apparently where I'm at. Raise a glass in December for thirteen long years. Another half-decade until I reach the age he was, and yeah, I know how that sounds.

Be good to the ones you love. We are all fragile this year.

~Sor
MOOP!

(PostScript, for those who may be new: In 2007 (the year I was 17/18), I dated a man eighteen years my senior. Perhaps predictably, it did not go well. You can find more information in the very punny "therapy" tags (therapyfilter and therapyblatant being the most common)

Edited to Add: I just spent the last hour doing just that, and look, if you like the way I write and can handle some depressing shit, I think the therapyblatant tag has some of my consistently sharpest writing that I've ever done. This is a fucking horrible thing that happened to me but damn do the scars look amazing.

And as I lamented at one point, how much other writing could I have accomplished if I didn't have to spend literal thousands of words on this?