(Originally written as a note and reposting here as a short reflection)
Closed my Tumblr asks and compiled everything from 2022~2025 in one massive archival post.
Editing it together had me realizing how much time had passed from what seemed so recent—I had started writing Cinnamon Psychic & Gracecon both ~two years ago, and had watched Infinite Ryvius and Sci-Fi Harry around the same time; Sci-Fi Harry in particular feels so recent—but, all the same: re-reading the Q&A posts from 2023 to the present just felt like a blur of the me, now; maybe somewhat melancholic because sometimes I would see a post that made me wonder how I drew that or where my inspiration had all gone (especially for my ‘Forgiveness Machine’ fanart, I love those pieces).
2022 felt bad to read through, and had me pause for a bit whether I should censor some posts or leave that year out wholly—it just seemed like a necrotic chunk of ‘me’ that maybe made the present me worse-off, but of course: it is me all the same; all the things I tightly defined myself by (issues of gender, psychiatry, trauma) just popped up in nearly every Q&A though it were some toy I wanted others to see but not touch but to see all the same and to engender some shared toxic ground between me and others. Of course, that was all me all the same, and to my relief: part of myself that I think Wilderness gave distance to, or a learning from—I could spend many years more lost inside that ‘pained artists identity’ and have bountiful Moronic Growth. Thankfully, instead, I just became a single-minded religious dummy instead. I like the present me more, even though some of that necrosis is still inside me and I’m sure in several years time I’ll see the present me from some similar foul lens.
I still want to be more of a fiction writer, I need to finish my light novel! That’s what I’d like to do.
i think it;s a bit dismalhow so many ppl see sincerity nd it just translates to "this must b an ARG."
while still mean it's not unearned -- treating yourself like an exposed open wound invites infection, and that was my reward for it
(Originally written as a note and reposting here as a short reflection)
Closed my Tumblr asks and compiled everything from 2022~2025 in one massive archival post.
Editing it together had me realizing how much time had passed from what seemed so recent—I had started writing Cinnamon Psychic & Gracecon both ~two years ago, and had watched Infinite Ryvius and Sci-Fi Harry around the same time; Sci-Fi Harry in particular feels so recent—but, all the same: re-reading the Q&A posts from 2023 to the present just felt like a blur of the me, now; maybe somewhat melancholic because sometimes I would see a post that made me wonder how I drew that or where my inspiration had all gone (especially for my ‘Forgiveness Machine’ fanart, I love those pieces).
2022 felt bad to read through, and had me pause for a bit whether I should censor some posts or leave that year out wholly—it just seemed like a necrotic chunk of ‘me’ that maybe made the present me worse-off, but of course: it is me all the same; all the things I tightly defined myself by (issues of gender, psychiatry, trauma) just popped up in nearly every Q&A though it were some toy I wanted others to see but not touch but to see all the same and to engender some shared toxic ground between me and others. Of course, that was all me all the same, and to my relief: part of myself that I think Wilderness gave distance to, or a learning from—I could spend many years more lost inside that ‘pained artists identity’ and have bountiful Moronic Growth. Thankfully, instead, I just became a single-minded religious dummy instead. I like the present me more, even though some of that necrosis is still inside me and I’m sure in several years time I’ll see the present me from some similar foul lens.
I still want to be more of a fiction writer, I need to finish my light novel! That’s what I’d like to do.