August 16, 2019
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up.
My interest in furry wound down a bit in university. I’d burned myself a bit too hard, hurt too many people, grew too jaded to take part. I still prowled around the usual haunts on the MUCKs, still poked my head in FFF, still looked at all the art, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore.
There was a reason behind this. There were people behind this.
Well, true. I don’t know how to square that with…well, a lot of things.
You don’t know how to square that with how you felt about those people at the time.
That’s one aspect, yes. I also don’t know how to square that with the fact that I was growing too jaded in a lot more than just furry. I grew jaded at school. I grew jaded at work. I struggled with my relationships. I struggled.
You struggled with gender.
Well, yes, but I wasn’t quite ready to admit that, yet.
You struggled with self harm.
Yes.
You struggled with the intersections, the interstices, and the liminal spaces.
I was going to write about [a][s]. Where are you taking me?
Straight homeward to your symbol-essences.
Shall I not die, then?
Isn’t that the point of writing?
I’m pretty sure all our names are writ on water at this point.
Come now. You wanted to be Keats when you grew up.
You’re in a mood.
You’re in a mood.
Fine.
Where are you taking me?
Let [a][s] speak for [a][s]. Let yourself speak for yourself.
Okay.