Checking in.
Checking this place out. It's a mess. I mean, we were all angsty teenagers and young adults when Diaryland was in its prime, but at least we we entertained each other. Blissfully unaware of how life gets harder, or just ignoring it, I guess. So I can't really blame anyone for being pretty unentertaining now. Lots of us were drawn here as a coping mechanism in the first place so if the world's on fire and life has taken it's natural course of just being harder than it is when you're younger, it makes sense that this abandoned social house would have it all on full display. It's sad to see the ashes of something that was so vibrant. And important.
It's still my first reaction when I see it, that this is a welcome place in world where I usually felt pretty unwelcome. It's disappointing every time to see within a few clicks that it's just ...not. So I come here and I want to not give up on it, and I want to write with gratitude for what this place was, and convey that that gratitude exists because I made it out okay on the other side. I want write nice things. My life is good. My life is great. The cancer thing hangs over my head with an intensity that's hard to describe, but so far, everything is in the clear. To the medical community, it's almost as though it's never happened, so it's really just this residual mindfuck to sort out by myself. That's it, my one complaint. So life is good. Really good.
I want to write again, and I want to write nice things, but a good life isn't much to write about when the world's on fire and there's no one left to listen anyway.
2:02 p.m. - 2019-02-26