─ rain ─

[Tanjiro]

I had gotten up mid-slumber to take a piss. Eyes foggy I see her: she had made her way out of the dark crevice but upon seeing the light was scurrying on upwards, back to the shadows casted between my cupboard and the wall. I saw her purely by chance, as her movements made it clear that I wasn’t supposed to see her. I rarely wake up to use the restroom, & the shift in our routine caught us both by surprise.
She was there again the second night. Outside the crevice yet again, never wandering far from her nest. A curious creature. I crouch down to observe. The faint red hourglass on her abdomen confirmed my suspicions. Fear and panic now gripped me; She had to die.

Now was my chance to squash my anxiety against the tiled floor. My fear fades into a sense of power as I had the opportunity to gain control over my fear. But she scrambles to make way for me. There’s a softness that overtakes me as I see myself in her (crawling back into the shadow for the comfort of others). My only motive to kill her was out of fear & not out of necessity, would that make me a monster? The black widow is a shy girl. Quietly spinning her webs in the dark. Who am I to play God with her life?

She plays dead when I catch her in a clear plastic cup, theatrically throwing herself to one side to garner my sympathy. To show me that she was no threat at all. She was quite adorable, she flinched when I moved the cup but immediately went back to playing the bit. When I slid the paper under her she toppled over like a domino. My fear was replaced with amused admiration by her silly performance. I admired her beauty as she gathered herself at the sense of freedom in an unfamiliar place (the outdoors, aka my backyard) & slipped away back into the darkness.

The black widow - a creature I thought I would only encounter in my worst nightmares, turned out to be quite like me.

[Tanjiro]

I have been feeling extremely frustrated with my life recently.
I finished my 4th journal; I took an unconventional approach to journaling with my last notebook. Instead of writing daily events I wrote about future events in my ideal world. While I had fun at first, my identity limited my creativity on this & I was eventually stuck in the boredom of my life. I mean, this is the future in my ideal world. Why am I so afraid to even pretend to have fun? When I think about living carefree, the looming thought of money and career push away my curiosity to explore the possibilities of my life. When I think about finding love or close friendships the fears from my past comes to haunt me. I fear losing even before I have gained anything.

So I have limited myself to boredom even in the imaginary realities that exist solely in my head. Damn.

(Got burnout from writing so everything below is just a ramble)
Writing was one of the few things that did bring me joy. However, I find my inspiration dwindling when I water it down with my literal experiences and identity. Developing my OCs has been really fun, because I can express myself without that version of it being ME (am I making sense? Ah ha ha). Anyways, I'm a thrill seeker in a way but everything I do has been boring me idk. Not a fan of clubs, meeting people, going out etc. I will eventually return to that version but for now I think I just need to focus by having fun in my head 8-) 8-) 8-) 8-)