more melancholy, furry stuff, probably shameless begging for praise
I just hope it was all worth it to *somebody* and I did more with the last 20 years than just alienate people and wank off semi-publicly to a bunch of marginal kinks that I tried to frump up into a literary movement.
It just feels like there's not a goddamn thing left, and even the friendships are slowly decaying over distance. And I can deal with that, if fucking SOMEBODY SOMEWHERE is still a little bit happier because of all my dumb postfurry shenanigans. Or... you know... actually read and LIKED 5 Glasses of Absinthe. Or Parallax. Or a conversation with me once.
Or anything, anything at all, 'cause you know that's how depression works -- it's all hidden to me right now, absolutely anything good about any of it.
more melancholy, furry stuff, probably shameless begging for praise
You are still important to me. I wouldn't know much about myself if not for you. And I still hang on your every word even if I don't know what to do about it most of the time.
I've accepted that I don't get to be a real part of anyone's life, and if I had ever caught up and kept up with you like I imagined, I would have learned the much harder way that I don't have what it takes. But I can't lose sight of your light. And I still panic deeply every time, for longer than it takes for you to suddenly be better, about what exactly wrong thing I'm going to say or not say that I will have to blame myself for. And when you're not making me worry over you, and even usually when you are, you're being brilliant, you understand?
re: more melancholy, furry stuff, probably shameless begging for praise
@Cerulean And honestly? The main reason I let you be scarce is that you seem to prefer to be scarce and I never know the right way to approach unless there's a clear excuse, 'cause I have social anxiety too. I always enjoy interacting with you. <3
