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an untimely death (2022-2026) ♱

not an actual irl death, but a part of my existence was erased.

which is really, tragically, comedic as this was the third time this has happened in my life. as mentioned in the last blog post, I've lost my account on some app I used to vent on as it EOS'd and... the other time I lost my identity, I don't know. I don't remember what I was referring to anyway, I was never the person to keep track of things if they don't matter to me. Every time I have some sort of arc in a place I think will last forever, it poofs. vanishes, just like that.

how it happened was this: an old friend of mine came back on discord after a while and decided that, in a very uncaring manner and devoid of any thought, deleted a bunch of things off of their account. I don't know what really caused them to do that, but along the process they also deleted this group chat I was apart of for five years as they were the admin of it. five years of history gone in a mindless act. I feel so, I don't know, relieved and frustrated I was for it to be gone. In a way, they washed my hands clean off of some 'problem' I had with the things I've said a few years ago. that isn't me now, but do I feel guilty about what I've done? Some days maybe, some other days I don't care. It's like getting away with murder, except that it wasn't. Maybe it was better for it to be gone, but a part of my history disappeared along the way, and I'm not sure if I'm happy with that ending.

my identity and the way i acted is now lost media. i won't have to worry about a certain someone coming back to haunt me, and i won't ever have to interact or see them again. i just wish i could've seen that group chat one last time, but hey there's always the other one I can look back on.


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౨ৎ frantic

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i was young and eccentrically mentally ill back then. you can only see so much suffering before you would eventually find the feeling pathetic and wonder how could they not prevent that. ive had my suffering, was naive to not cover my tracks on a few things, but letting others know of your suffering to a group of other mentally ill people can be a can of worms. i was at least smart enough to never let anyone know of the shit i was going through, but those that were weren't so cautious ended up with my cold, dead words in their bleeding wounds.


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౨ৎ frantic

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this is like if the burning of the Library of Alexandria was in modern times


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