Writing this fic, in all honesty, was difficult.
Although I would never be the first one to claim that writing was easy, the past year and a half really did a number on me, so much so that I was convinced I would never write another fic again. Why would I? I was far too buried in my personal problems, I was (maybe) depressed, and when I went back to reading fics, everyone seemed to write better than me. My fics, I felt, weren’t needed anymore. The fandom grew without me.
It took me a while to realize that my fics were never supposed to be needed in order to make people happy, in the same way I was never supposed to be needed by anyone in order to mean something in the world. I do not write, or exist, for the purposes of other people. I write, and exist, for myself. And I think I lost sight of that, and refused to listen to anyone else tell me that until I figured it out for myself.
I’ll always still cry over the boy who inspired this fic (because yes, someone did) but I think I’ve made my peace with how we ended. I’ve lost a lot of friends this past year and a half—people I would talk to everyday, turned into people I would only exchange a word with every three months. That’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it.
My life has drastically changed since the last time I published a fic. And so has my psyche. So this fic was difficult to write—my notions of love have changed, a little, and I realized that life isn’t going to be as clear cut as I make it out to be. This fic is quite possibly, a bit different than the previous ones I put out. But it’s still me, still a reflection of who I am. Just a little bit more complex, a little more jaded.
I hope you enjoy it.