(no subject)

I like to think of myself as a better person now than I was a year ago. That I've made progress.

I think that I have.

I've just been thinking about that fic I wrote, Spilt Milk, and about how closely Ben's coping methods resemble mine. I noticed this when I was involved in an RPG, as well. The traits of the character merged with undesirable traits of my own. I hide and run away and do my damned best to make sure that no one ever sees how much I've been hurt. My character was very much deeply in denial about his pain and whether he even had the right to it.

So, I repress, and I honestly think that I'm over something. But I never move on, never grieve, because instead of facing my pain, I push it away. So when I see something that reminds me of what happened, it's like a knife in the heart, all over again, just as bad as the first time.

For everyone who was on that particular RPG with me (and for the people who got to know me because they were readers), this is an apology. Because I got hurt, genuinely hurt, pretended that I didn't, and then cut and run to get the fuck away from the source of the pain. Just stopped posting, without explanation. And that's wrong. I'm sorry.

I am very sorry.

Mea culpa.