It's a Metaphor, Fool

Lost

I have been alone since deciding to venture into the portal meant as an escape from the mist in Solus. It was the strangest thing, one moment I was trailed just behind Aro, holding his hand tight, and the next I was completely isolated. Even more peculiar was that my scales were all gone. I appeared elvish again. The air was cold and frosty where I was, but over the time it has warmed up a bit. I was at first unsure whether I was still on Tyrra or in this new promised land, but as I have began to travel more south the landscape seemed to become somewhat vaguely familiar again. I had sent out a few letters but had never gotten any answers, so I did not know whether they had been not delivered or just ignored. At one point I sent a pigeon carrying missive to Lord Crie, and I had received a reply, which I chose to not respond to. So I was on Tyrra. And alone. Though I didn’t particularly go out of my way to be around people, I suppose. I chose to stay and live in the woods as I had before. Many thoughts had burdened my mind, thoughts of my fiance and friends, of my mother, my home, where I was and where I was going, it had all troubled me so. My introspect had pushed me more to keep to myself, and I haven’t left this state yet. Perhaps I will stay here forever. It’s much more peaceful.

Willow

I pretty much suck at everything I do.

I’m just sinking so fast and even though everyone’s still hanging on to me  they’re not keeping my head above the water. I don’t want to drown but all I can see has gone black…

daetrimental:

I miss the constant reassurance of self harm. Sometimes I think my life would be a lot better if I could self harm without the guilt.

I just wish I had my fucking knife.

Or some alcohol.

I could use a friend.