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They build it up just to burn it back down
Hello, Dreamwidth.
Technically I have been here since 2013, but then LJ was home. It is no longer. I have not yet deleted my livejournal of the last thirteen years, but I expect to post to Dreamwidth only from now on. (I'll have to reword my Patreon.) It's a little disorienting. I don't usually spend so time on this side. Everything looks familiar, but not quite right. I'll have to get this journal looking more like itself. At the moment I just seem to feel very sad. I have never lost an online community before—much less one with as much emotional history as LJ—and it really does feel like a death or an exile. So much of my coming back to life was on LJ, my relationships with the people who are now my husband and my lover. It was the first place I was known as Sovay. I expected to stick with it until they turned out the lights, but instead somebody stole the lightbulbs and asked me to sign a confession I couldn't read to get them back. It might have been collateral damage to strong-arming someone else, but it was damage and done. I might be grieving that a while.
But in the meantime I'm here. So who's here with me? Sound off.
Technically I have been here since 2013, but then LJ was home. It is no longer. I have not yet deleted my livejournal of the last thirteen years, but I expect to post to Dreamwidth only from now on. (I'll have to reword my Patreon.) It's a little disorienting. I don't usually spend so time on this side. Everything looks familiar, but not quite right. I'll have to get this journal looking more like itself. At the moment I just seem to feel very sad. I have never lost an online community before—much less one with as much emotional history as LJ—and it really does feel like a death or an exile. So much of my coming back to life was on LJ, my relationships with the people who are now my husband and my lover. It was the first place I was known as Sovay. I expected to stick with it until they turned out the lights, but instead somebody stole the lightbulbs and asked me to sign a confession I couldn't read to get them back. It might have been collateral damage to strong-arming someone else, but it was damage and done. I might be grieving that a while.
But in the meantime I'm here. So who's here with me? Sound off.
no subject
I've been explaining to people on Facebook that I'm not worried about prosecution or even necessarily about being censured for content: I don't want to sign the terms of service and go on using my journal because I don't want to say that kind of censorship is all right with me. It's not all right with me. Even if it never happens to me, it's not all right. I don't want to put my name to it. If I make the decision to sign in order to import my comments of the last few weeks, I'll probably shutter the journal soon afterward. And that makes me sad.
no subject
I'm here, and I acknowledge your loss.
no subject
Thank you.