The_gladiator
Avatar of Fantasy
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2007
- Posts
- 24,510
“I wish I did too. But, we do what we can,” he nibbled along her neck down to her collarbone.
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I'm sorry that I didn't see this until now. I was hoping that the situation might be improving. I know that it's hard to reach out, to put what you're feeling and fearing into words, to ask for help. I know that, sometimes, it feels like nothing can help, so what's the use even trying to ask. While I can't offer any wisdom, know that you are not alone. I will wade out in the water every time to stand beside you, even if I don't know how to get you back to shore.Life seemed so far removed from that stolen moment with his kitten. There would be more stolen moments together, he knew it, he couldn't wait in fact. It was even coming up on 2 years since they had met and started writing together. Had it really been that long? There was a special bond there, both as writers and friends. Life had drifted them a bit, but they both knew the other cared.
for now though, in this moment the elf needed to express his inner demons once again. This space had once often been a home to such thoughts and expressions. He hadn't expressed such emotion here in some time, preferring to focus his energy on the joy and pleasure he felt when she was in his arms here. Yet, there were times when emotions got too big and they needed expressed in some way. He knew this space was too public to truly express many details of what was going on in his mind, in his life, so again, he would turn to metephor and vague expression of hurt to get at least something out. He knew he should journal privately, that it might help, yet he never found an outlet there like he did when he posted here. That seems weird to him, but yet, he's ok with it.
It probably has something to do with how even here there's a bit of rp to it which helps him to write, to find a voice in a world where fantasy could live, where he could be more than what he really was outside the screen.
He stood in the waves, such a reflection on the outside of the waves within. The emotional termoil that roiled and sook to shatter him from within. There were days like today that he wanted to give in, to let it break him. He wished sometimes to be washed away into oblivion. Maybe that wouldn't hurt then. Probably not though.He didn't want that, did not want a perminant solution to problems that they said were temporary. They didn't feel temporary though. His health was declining, the medications were stealing pieces of his being that he couldn't afford to lose. He was so scared he would lose the last vestages of that part of his life too. Who would he be without his sexuality too. Surely he would lose his rw s/o should he not be able to please her. Maybe that wasn't true, but it didn't stop the fear. His entire being had been wrapped up for so long, entertwined with his sexuality. Anyone that truly knew him, which admittedly wasn't that many people knew how much that part of him meant to him. To watch it slip away because of his diabetes medications broke his heart. He could remember angrily growling to the cosmose that the medications were stealing the last thing he liked about his life.There were more things of course, but itdidn't really make the pain of losing even part of that critical portion of himself less.
This honestly only scratched the surface of what he felt inside. Worry about his health that caused the need for so much medications, his inability to control his health physically was driving the downward spiral of his mental health too, not that that was ever overly healthy. The elf felt another wave try to batter him down. He stood firm, but he gave a little, let it sweep him down shore a bit before regaining his footing. He was slipping but he hadn't fallen yet.He honestly felt so alone. He didn't live alone, but he couldn't express himself to people around him, didn't know how to ask for help, they were all overwhelmed with life too, he had to try to find the strength within.He couldn't even find the right words to tell his s/o especially how much she helped him or what he needed what might help. Why did depression do this, fuel a fear of reaching out. Where was the line of not wanting to be a burden, yet recognizing that this was too big for himself and that he needed help. He didn't know. Maybe he would figure it out in time. Until then there was just the waves.
She simply appeared as quietly as the real world had pulled her away. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, not far from his swing.“I wondered if I’d ever see you here.” He murmured a slight smile playing over his lips at the familiar presence. “Though it has long been since we graced one another’s homes.” And indeed they hadn’t crossed paths outside of the pearl in some time. She had told him once that she would always know when he returned, so it seemed. He smiled a bit at that thought.
His thoughts mirrored hers in a way. They had had their ups and downs but neither were the person they were 13 years ago. Good god had it been that long. At least, he knew he wasn’t.
“Time marches ever on doesn’t it my friend?” He asked green eyes flicking to her from the note in his hands. “I love this place, but sometimes it’s bittersweet coming here.” It was unclear if he meant spirit, or if he meant lit in general.
She simply appeared as quietly as the real world had pulled her away. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, not far from his swing.
"Time does march on, my friend. People come and people go from our lives."
A slight smile formed on her lips.
"What has you in such thought, Glad? I think passion fuels our desire to write, perhaps so for many. For true writers, we always desire to write. Sometimes, we have to compel ourselves to sit down and do so or the real world will gobble us up. For me, writing comes easy but I do have to force myself to sit down and do so."
She smiled, "I'm just happy to hear you're writing again, my friend. The RW has a tendency to suck me dry.... Oooo, that sounded naughty but seriously, not in a good way. So much has happened to me recently that not only making the time to write but to actually sit down and do it? I'm finding hard and do not speak to me of mortality, my dear friend, I sense I am older than you so I am closer to the end of my trail than you are even if we cannot predict when our trail ends," she sighed deeply, "I've come close at least three times and I am blessed to still be here.“I do not know that I have the words to describe it. Feelings of mortality perhaps, just coming back here and seeing posts with some people and knowing so much has changed, missing so much of it. Knowing that some here I still talk to on some level or another, others I may never speak to again, it’s just.” He shrugs.
Shifting his eyes to her he smiles, “On the subject of writing when I’ve been doing it writing comes easily to me. If it has been long since I’ve done it, the doubt, depression and anxiety tell me I cannot do it anymore. But if I can make myself start again it will flow again. Sometimes it feels stilted or rusty at first, but I am probably my own worst critic. But yes, like you I feel the pull to write. I go without it. I never fully stop, though may go months without it, but still it returns. It feels good to write again. I have picked up my stories with Lily elsewhere as she has withdrawn from lit, and I have started something new here, a somewhat alternate take on an old story, It’s relit the fire inside to write again.”
She smiled, "I'm just happy to hear you're writing again, my friend. The RW has a tendency to suck me dry.... Oooo, that sounded naughty but seriously, not in a good way. So much has happened to me recently that not only making the time to write but to actually sit down and do it? I'm finding hard and do not speak to me of mortality, my dear friend, I sense I am older than you so I am closer to the end of my trail than you are even if we cannot predict when our trail ends," she sighed deeply, "I've come close at least three times and I am blessed to still be here.
Change of subject, it does feel good, doesn't it, to actually see the words flow from your brain, through your fingers to see it actually in print. It always makes me feel good and like I've accomplished something for the moment. Something that's just mine and when shared with a partner? Even better. I like writing with a partner more than writing on my own. Even though I've been lazy lately, I do find myself enjoying the moment of creating with others."
She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "We're one of the old crew around here, Glad. Even though we're still learning a characters, it is nice to write with someone you know."Mortality finds us all I suppose.” He chuckles. “I am glad you too are still here.”
His smile returns as she moves back to. Writing, “We are much on the same wave length. I would love to write on my own but the motivation is just not there. Writing with others provides a spark that I need to stay motivated, it is fueled by my connection with the other person too. Though I’m still learning Sam with you and my story writing with you though we’ve not done a ton of it has a degree of ease, you know a good deal about me. More than anyone that still comes here I’d suspect. It provides a level of comfort I suppose.” He shrugs unable to quite put into words what he means.