Alright, so I’ve been wracking my brains for a while now about how I want to handle this whole writing thing.
Because the idea of having serial novel on this blog sounded like fun. (Yes, I see the humor after Lothair’s whole-ass rant on being afraid of turning into Dostoevsky.) Sharing writing sometimes helps us write more. And I could work on multiple things at the same time.
But then I was like, “But what if I’m just upset with myself for being in limbo for so goddamn long, and I’m trying to ‘atone’?” We just…really seem to have a thing for lopping off our body parts and chucking them all over the place. Pretty sure nobody wants to wake up to a severed leg on their kitchen table. Or…actually, I’m not even sure if THAT’S an accurate statement after some of the things I’ve seen. Every possible iteration of human seems to exist simultaneously.
But it occured to me. This morning. As I (metaphorically) ripped out my hair…that I am just Being a Dumbass, once again.
Because I probably need to finish sketching out the plot for this novel before I worry about what I’m going to do with the goddamn thing.
Oh my god! What a shocking revelation!
Sometimes I really would like to set everything on fire. But with all this gas infiltrating the very air we breathe, the entire world would probably just explode. So I need to find where the fuck we put our gas mask and get my shit together and plot this thing.
(Simon wants me to make a dark joke about Achenar, but I do not have the energy to explain the plot of Revelation right this second.)
Just…can we, as a system, agree to not be Achenar this time?
Jesus Christ.
(Exactly! Precisely!)
No collies, no silver foxes, no brothers who learned to hate themselves after destroying the ecosystem of their pirate cove prison cell.
Just a very tired, crabby person who wants to give up and dissociate until I grow old and die.
I won’t. I just…I want to. I really, really fucking want to.
So.
I’m going to take some time to work on sketching out this novel today. And I’m going to take some time to clean this disaster-zone of a house. (Apparently Charles is volunteering to help. I weirdly don’t seem to know him well, so we’ll see how that goes. I have no idea how many of us trauma holder guys used to be part of each other, and it’s surreal af. Somebody is running to help you, and maybe you’ll be one someday, or maybe they used to be your arch nemesis, or maybe you’re already in the same subsystem, or maybe they’re just Some Guy.)
It’s kind of amazing – in a creepy, analytical, science sort of way – just how fucked up the human brain is capable of becoming under torture. I’m…just going to use the word “torture” instead of trying to explain because it fits better than you might imagine. And I can’t remember for shit. It’s all just flashes and pieces that I honestly don’t have the mental health points to examine right now.
But yeah. All of this is just to say, “I’m a dumbass. Lothair thinks too much and is also a dumbass. I can very easily undo all of the work our therapist has helped us achieve, but that would be fucking stupid. So I’m going to actually do something today.”
-Sasha