brains :(

[pocky_slash]

Hi there, internet.

It's a drag, internet. It's just...a drag, lately. I spent way too much of Halloween crying (though we did get a ton of trick-or-treaters which basically saved the day) and I've spent way too much time the last week crying, period. And that's not counting all the crying I did at The Book Thief.

(Quick aside--The Book Thief was

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[pocky_slash]

Yeah, I mean, I left tumblr for a good eight months because it felt so toxic to me. And I tried to curate my list when I decided to come back, but there's still this overwhelming feeling of, "Well, they're all friends and always chatting and knowing things about each other, so I guess I'll just sit over here and not bother them" that makes it hard to interact. I never know when I'm stepping on toes and I can't shake the "everyone secretly doesn't like me" feeling that drove me off tumblr in the first place.

idk. I miss LJ a lot. I feel like it was much easier to navigate for my brain. SIGH. I guess I'm just old on the internet.

re: the story: Yeah, "Everyone has their own version of every trope, it's fine!" is def what I tell people whenever they're nervous about writing a story that's "already been done," but for some reason, I can't get my brain to accept it right now. And it's a story that's been rolling around my brain in various iterations since at least this time in 2011. I was super excited to finally stumble into a plot for it, but now every time I open the doc I can't even re-read what I've already written because it's so painfully ooc and sentimental and awful. None of these things are normally things I have a problem with--usually re-reading is how I remember what I loved about a story, and usually I just sort of push through to finish things I don't think are great, just to get them out of the way, but these past few months have just been...awful. I don't know. An insane amount of my identity is tied up in writing, and when I can't do that right...I really don't know what to do with myself. Not just with myself, but with how other people see me, with what goes on in my head...all of it.

It's just really frustrating and frustrating really easily becomes "misery-inducing." The longer I go without keeping with projects or finishing anything, the more I start to feel like, "Well, you can do one thing well and you can't even do that right now, so what the fuck are you doing with your life?"

Ugh, sorry, I got kind of carried away there. WHOOPS. The point being...writing is hard in a way it's not usually hard and it's making me sad.