Of the ill-washed winds, light burns. (phoenix_blade) wrote,
Of the ill-washed winds, light burns.
phoenix_blade

This place is dead.

Harsh, maybe.

But the fluttering scrips and scraps as the calloused fingers of the Russian advertisers clambering over almost silent posters—their victims' faint, sorrowful sighs wheezing out as their spam-driven detractors hurtle over their quiet pleading to slam another hyperlink into the comments of a completely unrelated post—all but seal the deal for me.

"Is that really phoenix_blade?" you ask.  Read that last fucking paragraph.  Yeah, it's me, I just graduated from using ten billion commas into hammering the keys for em-dashes.  At least I don't abuse semi-colons like I used to.  (I still end sentences with prepositions.  And still have my way with parenthetical asides; fuck you.)

Look, Livejournal is dead.  I see a few of you scrambling around, hammering at the chests of dead accounts in the vain hope of summoning a heartbeat, any sign of life.  You...probably aren't going to find any.  Most of us have moved on from this place.  It's dead, through and through.  Invaded by spammers, made redundant by the removal of Facebook's character limits—I posted a 5.5k word short story on there for shits and giggles—LJ is, as you all treat it, a shambling zombie of a time long past.  It clings to life, rasping and clawing at the ground as it drags itself along, never knowing respite.

And that is what it's ultimately meant for:  respite.  We all put our hearts and souls into this shit.  I know we did, because if you were one of those banal fuckers that only posted memes and your fucking grocery shopping list, you'd never be fucking reading this.  But, unless you only used this site for private entries, a lot of us have moved on.  I've moved on.  I can't bear to look at my earlier entries.  I hate the person I was, as much as he'd probably hate the individual I've become.  I'm sure a lot of you feel similar, and a similar amount feel differently.  Honestly, it makes little difference to me.

You fucks, you broken, you twisted, you magnificent, beautiful fucking people...when I was broken, you rushed to my aid.  When I was depressed and made another plea to shore up my broken confidences, you did so without cynicism.  When I was at the top of the world, grinning madly as I knew every impossible goal I had before me was inevitable, you were there to reassure me that I was, in fact, the manic god I deceived myself into being, holding your tongues and allowing me the illusion of joy for just long enough that I could survive.  And when those lofty goals collapsed in a hale of dust and noise, leaving me coughing and staring at the broken framework of my life, you didn't judge. You didn't judge me for failing.  You just...helped.

Did it do any good?

Well, fuck if I know.  I know without you all I'd probably be a pleasantly colored splat at the bottom of a very tall building, a gurgling counterpoint to a screeching mother trying to wipe my blood and entrails off her giggling infant in a stroller on the sidewalk.  But, my longevity finding a bit of relief, I find I kind of like the air up here.  Think I'll stick around for a while.

I'm...done with Livejournal.  I'm going to flick through a few more of the recent entries, see if I see anything relevant, but mostly I'm going to see who's still around.  If anyone wants to keep up with me, message me and I'll give you my Facebook info.

If not?  No harm done.  Thank you all for everything you've done for me.  It's so goddamn weird admitting this, considering I never even met most of you, but you were always true friends.

And, even if I've learned to reign in my crazed ranting a bit:  Fuck your goddamn LJ-cut.

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