Hello again, my dearest reader.
I say reader, because I doubt anyone's reading anymore. I'll tell you a little secret, though, but only if you promise not to leak it. Okay? Okay.
This blog started with a story. I've been asked about it many times, over the years, and I refused to give an answer. I think I'll give you all an answer now. I'll issue a warning though: you won't like it.
Yes, the incident was real. Some of it was manipulated, of course, a lot of it that I thought I was making out was true and I didn't know it at the time, but the raw facts in the story itself played out exactly as it was written.
And yes, we were friends. We tried to deny a lot of things but we (on my end, at least, and apparently his too, at that time anyway) ended up inevitably together. I'm not going to lie, there were problems. You know what the funny thing is, though? It was perfect. Every moment of it. Bear in mind that this could be hindsight talking, it's been a long time. Maybe not in physical time, but mentally and emotionally it has...yet not enough.
Sometimes, you think you believe in soul mates and a love that's fated. It's just like the movies, it's everything you read about and you think you'll be better than the idiots in fiction. You won't mess up.
But you see, dear readers, that's the problem.
Because the tragedy of fiction is twofold. One, is when you believe it and it corrupts your life (I believe Lev Grossman puts that across perfectly in the Magicians trilogy *deep happy bittersweet shudder*) but the second is the more insidious kind. It's when you convince yourself everything is the opposite of it.
In a horror movie, chances are, you'd be exactly like those characters you make fun of. In post apocalyptic adventures, you'd be just as selfish as the one guy/girl you hated. And in love?
Well. Maybe in love, you'd mess up just as bad as when the plot thickens but unfortunately, our lives aren't fiction and very few people get a second chance and almost never ever a happy ending (yeah, Once Upon a Time, I may buy into your propaganda but I see Regina's truth, by Jove, do I see it).
This brings me back to the secret I was going to tell you.
Honestly, this post was supposed to be a welcome back post with a few lines and a story I've had in my head but the moment it started writing, my fingers went on a whole other path and I've denied myself for far too long. It's time to let the words out the way I used to when I couldn't hold them in.
I won't tell the story I meant to, it's gone and I hope it'll come back sometime. Instead, this is going to be a confession.
For all of you, because if you're reading this then I love you, my dear readers. You're the fuel that lights my flickering flame.
And also for the one person who won't see this.
Yet, I'm as stupid as the people Pandora cursed with that damn box and I have this weird nagging hope that he will and he'll tell me he did. Nothing more than that, just something that simple.
But (and I contradict myself, trying to build my walls up again) he won't.
Well, sometimes life sucks and you don't die, eh Jacob (did I make a Twihard reference? I most certainly did not. SHUT UP)?
Oh yes, the secret. This is for him. The mystery behind that story and a staring character in a few of the very personal ones. This is for the one who took me out of my writer's block because he existed. This is for the one I started this blog for, hoping he wouldn't see it but "leaking" it so he would. This is for the only person I've ever been in love with, the only person that I could ever imagine a long traditionally victorian life with despite hating everything that revolves around that...unless it's with him. ALAS (I'm dramatic okay, what do you expect?)
It isn't meant to be.
So that is my very big and scary secret.
My second one is part 2 of this secret...I haven't written because I can't. What happened brought my writer's block back and apparently I STILL can't write without him in my head. Twisted, huh?
He's always existed, but the only time my Muse hit me was when he existed with me in some way or the other, and it's been that way fr a few years. Tragedy R Us, manufactured in the lost sands of Greek mythology xD JK cuz I know it's not that bad :V It only feels that way to me, because I am my world. And apparently, he can't stop being a part of it, if only through his absence even.
Now, I feel like this has gone too far but I do owe you an explanation for reading the rest of this post so I'll be brief because it's difficult...to think about all of this. Even though I can't forget.
A lot of things happened on both our ends, I mean I don't know and I probably never will (sadly) know about it from his end, but we both messed up, I think. And it wasn't pretty. It was an insanely difficult time in my life and I don't blame him, even though I assume (sorry for assuming but what else can I do, I'm a paranoid obsessive human) he does blame me.
The only thing I want to say is, one important fact he might not know or ever understand, what happened happened on my end in the beginning of the end was because I knew us was holding him back. And I couldn't do that. I felt like I was hurting him (in retrospect, maybe I was hurting myself so much that I projected idk) and I couldn't bear to do that to the man I loved. I was scared of how deep my love is-not an excuse, just a fact, it doesn't excuse anything- but I did a stupid thing that sparked off stupider things and I thought I was helping him by achieving what we achieved. I want to go back and punch my face a thousand times but he's doing great (idk emotionally but in other ways yeah) and I don't believe it would have happened if we had stayed together. Him being happy is funnily enough all I ever wanted, at the cost of destroying my existence (apparently) forever.
Maybe it was wrong, maybe it wasn't. On both our ends, but love is irrational and stupid and Emily Dickinson is just such a mean person that it hurts (shoutout to everyone who knows what I'm talking about).
I miss my dearest friend more than Us. But it hurts knowing that Us is still the only Us I can ever imagine and it just...it tears me apart. Every goddamned day.
Gosh, love sucks huh?
A N Y W A Y
Now that that's out of the way, hopefully I'll start this blog up again and write things that's be less...depressing and jaded.
Can we forget this post please?
Thanks xD
I love you for reading this and everything else I've written so far, you're amazing okay? Please don't leave me, my wonderful reader, it's all I've got that I honestly value.
I say reader, because I doubt anyone's reading anymore. I'll tell you a little secret, though, but only if you promise not to leak it. Okay? Okay.
This blog started with a story. I've been asked about it many times, over the years, and I refused to give an answer. I think I'll give you all an answer now. I'll issue a warning though: you won't like it.
Yes, the incident was real. Some of it was manipulated, of course, a lot of it that I thought I was making out was true and I didn't know it at the time, but the raw facts in the story itself played out exactly as it was written.
And yes, we were friends. We tried to deny a lot of things but we (on my end, at least, and apparently his too, at that time anyway) ended up inevitably together. I'm not going to lie, there were problems. You know what the funny thing is, though? It was perfect. Every moment of it. Bear in mind that this could be hindsight talking, it's been a long time. Maybe not in physical time, but mentally and emotionally it has...yet not enough.
Sometimes, you think you believe in soul mates and a love that's fated. It's just like the movies, it's everything you read about and you think you'll be better than the idiots in fiction. You won't mess up.
But you see, dear readers, that's the problem.
Because the tragedy of fiction is twofold. One, is when you believe it and it corrupts your life (I believe Lev Grossman puts that across perfectly in the Magicians trilogy *deep happy bittersweet shudder*) but the second is the more insidious kind. It's when you convince yourself everything is the opposite of it.
In a horror movie, chances are, you'd be exactly like those characters you make fun of. In post apocalyptic adventures, you'd be just as selfish as the one guy/girl you hated. And in love?
Well. Maybe in love, you'd mess up just as bad as when the plot thickens but unfortunately, our lives aren't fiction and very few people get a second chance and almost never ever a happy ending (yeah, Once Upon a Time, I may buy into your propaganda but I see Regina's truth, by Jove, do I see it).
This brings me back to the secret I was going to tell you.
Honestly, this post was supposed to be a welcome back post with a few lines and a story I've had in my head but the moment it started writing, my fingers went on a whole other path and I've denied myself for far too long. It's time to let the words out the way I used to when I couldn't hold them in.
I won't tell the story I meant to, it's gone and I hope it'll come back sometime. Instead, this is going to be a confession.
For all of you, because if you're reading this then I love you, my dear readers. You're the fuel that lights my flickering flame.
And also for the one person who won't see this.
Yet, I'm as stupid as the people Pandora cursed with that damn box and I have this weird nagging hope that he will and he'll tell me he did. Nothing more than that, just something that simple.
But (and I contradict myself, trying to build my walls up again) he won't.
Well, sometimes life sucks and you don't die, eh Jacob (did I make a Twihard reference? I most certainly did not. SHUT UP)?
Oh yes, the secret. This is for him. The mystery behind that story and a staring character in a few of the very personal ones. This is for the one who took me out of my writer's block because he existed. This is for the one I started this blog for, hoping he wouldn't see it but "leaking" it so he would. This is for the only person I've ever been in love with, the only person that I could ever imagine a long traditionally victorian life with despite hating everything that revolves around that...unless it's with him. ALAS (I'm dramatic okay, what do you expect?)
It isn't meant to be.
So that is my very big and scary secret.
My second one is part 2 of this secret...I haven't written because I can't. What happened brought my writer's block back and apparently I STILL can't write without him in my head. Twisted, huh?
He's always existed, but the only time my Muse hit me was when he existed with me in some way or the other, and it's been that way fr a few years. Tragedy R Us, manufactured in the lost sands of Greek mythology xD JK cuz I know it's not that bad :V It only feels that way to me, because I am my world. And apparently, he can't stop being a part of it, if only through his absence even.
Now, I feel like this has gone too far but I do owe you an explanation for reading the rest of this post so I'll be brief because it's difficult...to think about all of this. Even though I can't forget.
A lot of things happened on both our ends, I mean I don't know and I probably never will (sadly) know about it from his end, but we both messed up, I think. And it wasn't pretty. It was an insanely difficult time in my life and I don't blame him, even though I assume (sorry for assuming but what else can I do, I'm a paranoid obsessive human) he does blame me.
The only thing I want to say is, one important fact he might not know or ever understand, what happened happened on my end in the beginning of the end was because I knew us was holding him back. And I couldn't do that. I felt like I was hurting him (in retrospect, maybe I was hurting myself so much that I projected idk) and I couldn't bear to do that to the man I loved. I was scared of how deep my love is-not an excuse, just a fact, it doesn't excuse anything- but I did a stupid thing that sparked off stupider things and I thought I was helping him by achieving what we achieved. I want to go back and punch my face a thousand times but he's doing great (idk emotionally but in other ways yeah) and I don't believe it would have happened if we had stayed together. Him being happy is funnily enough all I ever wanted, at the cost of destroying my existence (apparently) forever.
Maybe it was wrong, maybe it wasn't. On both our ends, but love is irrational and stupid and Emily Dickinson is just such a mean person that it hurts (shoutout to everyone who knows what I'm talking about).
I miss my dearest friend more than Us. But it hurts knowing that Us is still the only Us I can ever imagine and it just...it tears me apart. Every goddamned day.
Gosh, love sucks huh?
A N Y W A Y
Now that that's out of the way, hopefully I'll start this blog up again and write things that's be less...depressing and jaded.
Can we forget this post please?
Thanks xD
I love you for reading this and everything else I've written so far, you're amazing okay? Please don't leave me, my wonderful reader, it's all I've got that I honestly value.
xoxo
Rei, not the Henry-Mills-kinda-Author.