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October 2008
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corvi [userpic]
An experiment

I really enjoy the "anonymous lj confession" posts, because I'm incurably nosy, and there's something very humanizing and oddly luminous about them. I haven't seen one in a while, so hopefully nobody will tar and feather me for inventing a new one. :)

A lot of the time there's more awkwardness in saying nice things to people who can't or don't want to hear it, than there is in saying unpleasant things. So, if you feel like playing, post anonymously something nice.

You don't need to identify who you're speaking to/about (but you may if so inclined). It doesn't have to be someone on my friends list, or even someone on livejournal. It doesn't have to be cheerful (but it can be) - bittersweet is okay. Blunt or poetic, also okay.

As ever, anonymous posting is enabled.

Edit, 4/04/2:05 AM: Due to an extraordinarily unpleasant spammer hitting my friends list, anonymous comments are temporarily screened. I doubt anyone is looking at this post at this late date. I will unscreen anonymous comments as soon as I can; I don't like the idea much. In the meantime, I will gladly unscreen any comments made in the spirit of this post. Thank you for your patience. -Corvi

Current Mood: curiouscurious

Sometimes when I miss you badly enough, I like to imagine I could summon you here, like a wizard summoning a demon in a bad fantasy novel. I make lists of all the ways you're beautiful to me, all the things I'd need to conjure you - velvet for your voice, incense to burn for the heat of your hand in mine, seawater from a storm for all the changing lights of your eyes, ink to smear over paper in strange smoky shapes. It's not a short list.


I admire you for the trust you placed in yourself & the whole universe by having kids. It's a certain sort of faith. You're raising them right.


She makes the cutest gleeful noises when you tickle her. I need a tape recorder next time I do it. You could stop a charging rhino in its tracks with this giggle, trust me. The rhino would look confused for a moment, and then it would be grinning wildly with its tail curling into heart shapes. Can rhinos grin? It doesn't matter. This giggle ignores the laws of physics.

The best part is that she has no idea she's got a weapons-grade giggle.


Stop saying people don't care about you, or that you're boring, or stupid, or ugly. You aren't. There are people that care about you, and love you, despite any artifices of relationship. Stop convincing yourself otherwise and selling yourself short. Please.


Hear, hear! I want to say this one to somebody, too. At least two somebodies, actually.


I want to say it to everyone in the world, dammit.

"You are beautiful. Live it."


I still cherish the smell of you.


You have always objected to my tattoos on vague religious grounds. So I have never told you that you are so important to me you inspired one of them. You were in the hospital, and I came in nearly every day, to hold your cold hand and look at you face unrecognizable with the breathing tubes and the feeding tubes, and sing to you, the same song over and over, a simple religious folk song you'd taught me.

And when I went home at night I couldn't sleep. Your stories of nightmares, of begging them not to operate, to leave you be to heal yourself when we all knew you couldn't, kept me awake. So I stared out the window and watched the trains go by, and sang again, until I fell asleep sitting up in my bed, and I woke up and went to classes with no voice left. I was singing to keep death away, from you, from us, from all of us.

You lived. I haven't stopped singing death away. Sometimes the melody is different. It is a very small magic, but it is the one you taught me.

I designed a tattoo of that song, for the small of my back. I wish I could tell you: you taught me something this wonderful, this important. Your faith taught me to sing death away.

And to you: you passed out in my arms less than a week after I met you. And already I knew how much death you were inviting into yourself with every word and every breath of hatred. I have always refused to tell you what lullaby it was I sang to you. But, all your raving atheist tendencies aside, you deserved my strongest magic.

I also know that you're savvy enough to know who I am, and who you are. There, that last sentence is an unmitigated "nice" thing to say, right? I got at least one in here amidst the confessional.


I love you.


There is no way to express the power that she is.
It shines like late day sunshine through stained glass 500 years old and just as clear as the day it was blessed before god and the universe.
I love to bathe in its color and intensity, the light singing in my heart.
Beauty, life, stength, and wonder all beneath my fingers.
Perhaps one day I can be enough of a mirror to show her what she cannot see on her own.


I wish to compliment you, anonymous sir or madam, on excellent writing. I'll even do it anonymously.


I am so scared that depression will take me away from you and my family. I'm not worried I'm going to kill myself--I haven't even thought of that since I was very young--I'm just worried that I will be so taken up in my problems that I'll forget about the rest of the world.

And if you asked me to go back on my medication, I would do so in an instant.

I want to say something anonymous (about someone else), but I'm worried you'll identify me again...

Also, you appear to have "turned on the option that logs your IP address when posting". That's not anonymous.

It's anonymous enough for me. I don't know any IPs but my server's by heart, and I know I'm unlikely to look it up (I won't say it's impossible, but it does require some pretty far-out scenarios, like maybe if someone made an anonymous active suicide threat, or something). If this bugs you, you probably shouldn't put anonymous comments on mine or anyone else's livejournal; there are plenty of much sneakier ways I could go about figuring out who's who, like one-pixel transparent gifs hosted on a server I own, or even just writing and running a PHP script to keep track of who is active and posting when.

And yes, you could always use lynx to read it, and write a script to delay your posts enough I can't get a good r-squared statistical correlation, or something. But that's no fun for either of us and I'd really rather just pretend the digital-privacy arms race doesn't exist. I'm being grouchy about the whole thing, really, and it's silly of me. I shan't blame you if you decide not to play.

Images are detectable by looking in the HTML for the entry, and are thus rather a risky strategy especially as claiming accidence would not be plausible. Keeping track of who's active is unlikely to pin down people very precisely. Meanwhile, switching off IP logging is trivial. In fact, I believe it's the default, which means at some point you have taken the deliberate decision to log IP addresses in your journal.

Indeed, even if we trust you not to look them up, you might notice that two comments have the same address and gain identifying information that way.

I'm not sure why anyone would even want to know who said what about whom. I have enough marvelous people in my life (and most of them aren't even on livejournal, let alone a friend of corivax), I can imagine some of them saying these things about me, if they had the words to say them. Or I can hope someone is reading the words someone else wrote and thinking it's about them.

I like this project. It makes me feel loved, even if I know the comments aren't about me, because (unless I check), I can't be certain they're not.


Seeing you was a breath-catching pain in my heart. All this time away, I'd truly made myself forget how handsome you are, how attracted I still am, and how much I still love you.

The bittersweet part, most blackly bittersweet of anything I've known, is that the above doesn't change a thing.


I love how confused you get sometimes when I'm looking at you. When I let what is in my heart come out and gaze hungrily and worshipfully at you through my eyes. "God of my idolatry," a lovely quote from Shakespeare that sums up those feelings. I know that scares you, because you forget that I also see all your flaws. The feet of clay that makes you oh-so human, and thus more within my reach than any god. I don't want to turn to some distant, distorted object. I love you, with all your flaws, and all your glories, and I joy so very deeply in both. I'd have to use every word I know to explain how and why I love you, because it is summed up most completely by my being who and what I am. Perhaps someday we'll have time enough for me to explain the way you ask me to, but for now, just accept the truths that you see lurking there in my eyes.


I wish I could show you that you will always be in my life. No matter what happens, I will not know how to stop caring. I will not let go.


Once I dreamed that a star had swung into the plane of the solar system from places unknown, and we were All Going To Die, and that's just how it was. So everybody did whatever it is we do when the world ends. I dreamed that I watched you dancing naked in the moonlight under a Japanese maple, with your hair unbound and silvered by the moon. I watched you reach out your hands, and the way the leaves stirred scarlet under your feet.

We are not friends. There is an unbridgable gulf of incompatible personalities between us. We might respect eachother but there will never be love.

I know a secret about you nobody else does. So I harbor a hidden fondness for you. Sometimes when you are trying to explain something in your intellectualized way, I can see the moonlight on your hair. It makes me very happy.


It was beyond words, the voices half materializing. Was it insight, genius, or a flicker of the otherworld which you begin to see?


I still love you. Just because things didn't work out between us, and we've moved on to other lives, it doesn't make the love go away.

I love you for what you taught me.
I love you for what you gave me.
I love you for changing my life in ways that you'll never even realize.
I love you for constantly reminding me that I am beautiful, smart, funny, and everything else that I'd forgotten for a long time.
The newer loves in my life don't replace my love for you, they grow from it. If you hadn't helped me become the person that I am now, I couldn't have the relationship that I'm in now.

And, for all of that, I love you... every one of you.


I have stumbled on this far past the time of its' original posting. However, I feel compelled to comment on the beauty within this post. My tears are the measure of the love exhibited within. It such a hopeful read as it restores the faith I have that people in their most furtive spaces are loving... or at least the ones with whom you are acquainted. Thank you.


and *pooh* on the *nay-sayer* who had to insert his paranoid logic about anonymity in the middle of the flow. I hope he stops missing the point as it is sad to see.