Aug. 23rd, 2016 01:14 pm
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I've been in and out of it, dissociating, crying, panic attacks...fun times. I've gone through four different types of birth control in the past 6 months and it's been quite the ride. Thanks ever so much to my prescription drug coverage for deciding that your profits are more important than my ability to function.

Hopefully this last attempt at regulating my hormones won't interfere too much with my efforts to find and keep a job.

Not done much reading, but as my mind clears, I hope to be able to enjoy the fics posting at the HP Time Travel Fest. Love the time travel trope, although, not so much in CC.

Trying to keep it together. That's all.
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I still feel all of the guilt. Or should I say, I'm finally starting to allow myself to feel the guilt that I've suppressed for who knows how long.
War will mess with your head. Being a child while the war affects the adults who are supposed to protect you, it all leaves a mark. And all the things that happened then and after, the things that I refuse to believe and the things that I refuse to remember, all those leave invisible scars. Scars that hinder movement, scars that ache. At least that's what she tells me. But it's so hard to believe it. To stop blaming and hating myself.
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My prompt was picked by some kind soul for The 2016 H/D Glompfest at serpentinelion. Yay, excited me.

I'm not sure where I could post my most heartfelt thanks to whoever picked my prompt. I apologize for my prompt being overly specific. It was only my second prompt ever, I barely knew what I was doing, and I hope that didn't make things difficult. In other words, I hope you went ahead and ignored anything that was too specific and just picked out whatever you liked and ran with that.

Again thanks so much. I can't wait to read.
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So, I have been running behind with my recs. Excuses go here: grandma sick, reading my friend's original novel, wanting to play Skyrim, blah blah blah.

My email is also brimming with unread posts and fest fics...raaaarrg.

Since the last time I posted recs, I've read about 35 fics. I've also realized that posting all my recs at once is a bad plan. So, I'll try to stagger my recs. And actually post them, yeah, that would be good.

Also, I think I might finally go see the new Star Wars movie this week. The last time I braved the movie theater was when the first Hunger Games movie came out. Before that, I think it was the second Twilight movie, before that, the sixth Harry Potter movie. Yeah, I don't really like going to the movies. Mostly because I don't ever want to leave the house.

so behind the times. sigh.

Have a good weekend everyone, it's off to Skyrim for me.
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Yesterday I posted a rec for 1bad_joke's Drarry fic, Something there. And ever since I've had the song (from Beauty and the Beast) stuck in my head. That song, and the Belle song from the beginning when she's singing through the town.

I thought listening to the song might help get it unstuck. But no. I listened to the whole soundtrack while cooking a roast for my cousin Beck's 20th birthday. Nope. Still stuck in my head.


Well it could be worse, it could be the song from the first Power Rangers movie. Yikes!
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Every day is harder than the last day
when nothing happens
I don't think I remember how to love or hate
anyone else
no one else is real

I'm tired of being here
I'm tired of never leaving
I'm tired of me

and somehow I survive
too stubborn or too cowardly
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The problem with you is that you have hope. That doesn't make me pity you. That doesn't make me envy you. That makes me afraid of you. Afraid that you could spread that hope, like it's catching. The last thing I want infecting me, is hope.
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Notes: I wrote this January 31, 2015. I posted it on Tumblr. Then I deleted my Tumblr account when I realized that I don't understand Tumblr. Now it's here.

I stopped writing about ten years ago.  Because, you know, life stuff.  No, not the usual daily grind, more like, life put on hold, mind put to sleep…in a terrible nightmare.  Last year I started to wake up, at first, only becoming aware that I had been asleep.  As I opened my eyes and saw the world, I began to want life,  as the wanting grew it filled me with fear that I have tried to swallow back down.  And as I swallowed the Want, it became a weight, puling my consciousness back down into the numbing depths of slumber.  But I want a waking life. And wanting has become stronger than the fear, stronger than the instinct to retreat back into my cozy cave of isolation.
To write.  Writing is the only cure. Writing is the only way to get it out of me.  Writing to rip the churning chaos from my soul, forcing it into being a separate being.  Spewing forth the lives I haven’t lived, the desires that I’ve ignored, the fear and rage and pain to I’ve refused to feel.
Here we go.


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April 2017



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