Yawning Peaks

Somewhat recently I came to the conclusion that I should probably get a webpage to resume publishing my writing...somewhere. It's not that there's anything wrong with OWF's blogging system, but it literally feels haunted it's such a ghost town.
Sorry, I don't really have license to say that because I don't post so much any more. Instead I spent a few years being a complete scaredy cat about any social media platform because being an insufferable shithead to complete strangers has some drawbacks.

I have a big writing project in the pipe with Sekto. It's been a long time coming, it's wonderful, full of love and care, and sort of feeling like too big of a project to comprehend at a given moment. Right now I'm just trying to hammer out the early chapters. Trying in the sense I fell into a steep depression over the holidays and spent several weeks at a time sitting in the dark eating baked goods I prepared myself and resenting everybody.

I love Undertale because I'm a big gelatinous emotional mucous and anything that takes the time to give me an emotional pat on the head is of course my BFF forever. Pure escapism on my part, I just really got off to being nice to these characters and not coerced to murder everyone. I'd lose myself in it entirely if I lacked the self awareness.

Video games stink these days. All I play are roguelikes produced between 2011-2015. I played a ton of Overwatch over the last few years and it was just the worst. Team Fortress 2, there's a game where you could nuke the entire enemy team with one luckily placed luckily critical rocket. In Overwatch you shoot a rocket at the enemy team and you die from sheer loneliness.

I really want to write for a living. I don't want a fancy house or some ephemeral layer of riches. I want a quiet, small home with some animals to take care of and a big expanse of nearby woods/forest to wander through. I'd probably just get bored of that and revert to complaining about Overwatch for free, though.

Here's my worldly advice that I so pretentiously deign to expel at anyone courteous enough to read this: All the jagweeds and dicksnappers in the world don't amount to much when you hit 25. I'm almost 26 and my own endless, stygian ignorance suffocates me like loam. Just be nice, don't hold it against people for believing crazy things and don't engage with upsetting bullshit if it is, to you, upsetting bullshit.

Be well.