《The Interim》Friday March 13, 2020
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For all the people who insist that God will ‘never give you more than you can handle’ - where the FUCK do you (or God) get off deciding my upper limit for bullshit?
I picked up the last of my shit from the apartment yesterday about an hour before I had my ‘emergency’ appointment with my therapist. She suggested I start a “gratitude journal” to help temper some of my more volatile mood swings - as if grief isn’t a valid reason for feeling slightly more depressed than usual. Said journal is probably just going to devolve into a sloshy pile of word vomit while I slam my face repeatedly against my keyboard until I can’t feel anything except the jittery buzz of the four successive cups of coffee I had around 6PM this evening.
Alternately, it will become an endless stream of run-on sentences since I can’t be fucked to edit. My high school English teacher is probably rolling in his grave.
I don’t know what to write. Maybe a cute physical journal would help motivate me? God knows I need more cat-themed office supplies to clutter up my fucking desk. I literally just opened Notepad on my laptop since I’m about 95% sure I won’t keep this shit up - writing has never felt meaningful unless I know that it’s for someone. Dr Hall would probably say that all of this is “for” me, presumably on the offhand chance I ever want to go back and review the events of what may very well have been the worst fucking day of my life.
…so far, anyway. Let’s try to stay optimistic.
A brief review of the past week (for my masochistic future self, I guess):
Russell Allen (henceforth to be referred to in this journal as Raging Asshole) ended his seven-year relationship with me on what I can only assume was a whim. Or because of the crush he developed on our neighbor. I had three days to move out of our shared apartment before said neighbor’s lease was up and she was determined to move in. I, and my three cats, are now stuck in my parents’ basement until such a time as I can move into the shitty one-bedroom the landlady is (graciously?) leasing to me in the same complex, rendering me my ex’s new neighbor in a painfully ironic twist. And, presumably because The Powers That Be decided that I was more than capable of handling the previous three bullets, the WHO just announced that we’re all officially in a global pandemic. Whatever the fuck that means.
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I’m not sure if writing this is making me feel better or just slightly more nihilistic. Will check back later when I decide.
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Black Sky
Space... An endless expanse of darkness populated by countless specks of light. Around many of those specks of light planets orbit, just cosmic motes of dust, but on some motes, there is life. And life, not content to stay on those motes of dust, found a way to challenge the endless expanse, to leap through the void to find other specks of light. This is the story of Leonora Horn, aspiring Starfighter Pilot of the Solari Federation and her travels through the Black Sky. [This story is set in the same Universe as my story Scarlet but both can easily be read individually] [This story contains a female, bisexual protagonist.]
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When shit hits the fan and The System initiates on earth, everything changes. This is no exception for Solar Volcanus, as he just happens to be exploring the outer parts of the Ancient Waipoua Forest at the time. Not just that, he also happens to be at the exact spot where an instance is formed. Trapped in a cave system full of evil fairies riding towering Ents, can the young man survive? - Inspired by fictions such as Defiance of the Fall and The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound. - Not recommended for sensitive readers. (Includes gore, rape, torture)
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Dark stories about life. Just read if you want to. Not recommended if you don't like the following things: demons, voices, cutting, suicide, psychotic stuff, dead etc.✨Also please don't think this is who I am, I'm a writer and experience things, but not all of this✨🌸names won't be included🌸❄️slow updates❄️
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