Thirium Heart//Reed900

shit's been rough, have some excuses to make up for it

8/29/2020- I keep this up as a reminder to myself, please don't mind it
Give it a read if you want to know about my mental state, I guess? Most of this is still applicable, so do with that what you will

Hey guys, it's your beloved Devo here again, back with another false update. I'm not going to jazz this up, play a sob story and hope for messages telling me to get well. I'm going to be straight up with you because I adore you.

There have been a lot of issues in my personal life lately, and I got some devastating news about my health recently. I won't bore you all with my problems. If you wish to know more, please, seek me out. DM me or post on my wall, and I'll DM you.

I've been struggling with mental and physical health all my life and so far, 2019 has taken a turn for the worse. Many tragedies have befallen me, but you're not here to listen to me complain.

But please, hold hope. This is in no way a discontinuance. I hold Thirium Heart very near and dear to me. I have changed and evolved just as this book has. I am determined. I will not abandon this book, no matter what befalls me. Sometimes, in my darker moments, I wander to Wattpad. I see the miraculous TWENTY-TWO THOUSAND REEDS this little trashy book has accumulated, and it inspires me. I love every single person who reeds, no matter how repetitive and redundant that may sound. Every author says they love their readers; it's not a rare thing. You guys give me a reason to live, a reason to pick myself up and move on. As cheesy as that sounds, it is absolutely true. Many a time I have contemplated suicide and realized that most people around me would not be bothered by my lack of existing. But you, my dear, I look at you and I think, "Who would finish Thirium Heart? Who would give the beautiful people the compelling story I've been spinning?" And it gives me a reason to survive.

It sounds stupid as all get out. But I've spun these characters in only a way I can. I've really made them my own, and no one else can continue what I've planned for them. Tina. Gavin. Elena. Hank.  Connor. Colin Anderson. Colton. Conan. Elijah. Richard. Chloe. They're just stupid fictional characters, but they connect to us in ways real people couldn't. They hold unique places in our hearts. We cradle them close and admire them for doing things we couldn't ever accomplish ourselves. Especially me. I've put elements of myself into these lovely beings, more than I'd like to admit. But it is truly you who make them feel real. Your comments, no matter how heartwarming, cringy, memeulous and everything in between, spark what sets them aflame. You bring my writing to life, no matter how dull my words may be.

But lately, my words have lost the ability to even suggest a spark at all. They fall flat, fall short, and spin nothing that I deem worthy of you. I used to sing, chirping away like an early morning songbird, filling the morning silence with my message. But lately, I'm an old crow, crooning out tunes no one remembers. I must admit to you that I have lost my passion for writing.

It used to bring stars to my dull life, but now it's just another spark from the grindstone. I feel burned out, washed up, and dragged down. I barely write anymore, and it feels as if pieces of myself are being broken off and flung out into the stars. I crumble under my own fingers, and it is up to no one but me to put myself back together. As much as I need help, no one in my real life cares enough for me to help me. The way that fate fucked me over has forced me to become an ungodly independent and sickeningly dependent person at the same time, and I am being torn to shreds. I feel so isolated and alone.

I'm going to take an official leave. I don't know how long I will be gone, but I do know to the extent. Up until late July, I will still be replying to messages (despite the fact I get none,) replying to comments, and reading on this platform. There is no chance I will post in this book and a very very very slim chance that I will post a one-shot in my other book. I have a few things in the works, but it is highly unlikely I'll deem them worthy of publishing for a few months. Between late July and mid-August, I will be in attendance of two band camps, back-to-back, so there will be absolutely no activity because phones are not allowed at either camp. I believe they start around July Twenty-Fourth, but my camp crusade ends on August Sixteenth. Hopefully, by then I will have found my passion for not only writing but for life again. I often get inspired during the first band camp, which if you must know, is Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp. I'm attending session three, majoring in Concert Bassoon and minoring in Creative Writing. A minor is pretty much just classes on a subject. Last year, I learned trombone. This year, I hope to learn how to write again. I may experiment stylistically between now and September, as I am in such a deep hole.

Once again I very strongly urge you to keep faith. As a writer, (can I even call myself that anymore?) words are all I can offer. I will not become a repeat offender, to the likes of you who have been here since To Catch A Slytherin. Please, stay with me. Ride this wave with me. Continue being the starts above the horrible, dark, inky ocean that threatens to drown me with every move. I love you, my dears. Stay strong. Stay strong because I can't right now.

        Devotedly,
                          Devo.