it's been a long time since i'd last written here. tons of stuff have happened since then, too, and i'm probably not writing about all that. to break it down as shortly as possible:
and so i'm here again. honestly? nothing really changed, no matter how i look at it... except i'm alive again. i considered myself a person so dead anyone'd cry looking at me... but now that's probably no longer the case.
since people deserve a good rest from me, i have decided to live in solitude for an uncertain amount of time. it will probably take a month or a few more... who knows, maybe i'll die again in the end. however, not by my own hand; alas, i have chosen life when i could choose death. the reason for that, dumb as it rightfully seems, is the sudden burst of inspiration experienced by me while i was writing the aforementioned confession of love. since the initial subject of love was what inspired me, i have burned into my memory all the happiness that spawned within me last night. i was, and i am happy to love. that's the trick to it, i guess, huh. no idea if i really was rejected in the end, as the start of my isolation just so happened to coincide with the timing of the confession, though, obviously enough, i cannot have an unrequited love for various reasons. well, first of all, falling in love with someone from an enemy nation is already rather dumb at times like this, and yet i couldn't help it, huh. that's puberty for you.
and yet there's a downside to all that... my mental health today was unbelievably "bouncy", so to speak. from the seemingly unbearable pain to the seemingly neverending happiness, all day long. to the hell and back. i'm fine right now, though. no idea if it's for too long. overall, it doesn't feel half-bad - feelings expressed at last, people receiving their long-deserved rest, other things - that makes things feel easier, if only merely so.
the plan now is to continue writing my long abandoned book, inspired as i am at the moment. i'm not too sure if it's the right way to say it, but i don't think it's wrong either - i dream of finishing that book. after all, it bears a very close connection with, as i came to realize ever so late, the happiest period of my life, October 2021, that is. the book is akin to a testament of sorts, a proof documenting my existence during that time. life was really good then. i knew that. i thought i had cherished it, too, and yet... maybe i was too careless in the end, letting it all slip away. and even now... now i may have lost a person that was, strictly speaking, the very core of that time. my muse, my love, mayhaps my world even, though that's taking things a bit too far... my confession will, no doubt, bury my ability to properly communicate with her. maybe not, who knows... it's not my fault i had to leave, anyway.
or at least that's what i'm saying to myself.
anyway, that's about the extent of it. now i'm probably heading to /dmp/ - it's all in russian, and yet it's linked here. i should translate it already. and then... maybe i'll write a short story here. maybe. who knows. after all, it's just my thoughtlib.