So... For those who are unaware, since I've only said it on my personal blog, I have decided to stay away from TEF for a while for mental reasons.

The problem, however, is that I still like TEF and everytime I think about it, I just want to come back, especially when there's an event happening, like the Rut. But let's face it: it fuels my anxiety more than it helps me overcome it. And yes, I understand that sometimes, you just have to ignore certain things. Yet there are other things that I just can't let go, simply because I want to understand why it is the way it is and what I can do to make it better.
However, you can't fix the problem if people don't even tell you what the problem is, in the first place. And this is why I'm making this post.

It is directed to those who interacted with me in the past, but also those who want to interact with me in the future.

Now, granted, I admit that I am a very paranoid person (and not just when it comes about social interaction). But I really have the feeling that there are things about me that bother others yet they won't tell me. Obviously, I am not going to say names, they know who they are... or maybe they don't know or simply don't care. If they want to talk to me privately, they can do it on Discord, anyway.

This ranges from not responding to my messages when you're supposed to, to avoiding me completely. And by "not responding to my messages", I mean stuff like ending the conversation without even returning the goodbyes, for example (happened to me a few times), which makes me feel like you don't like me for some reason and you just want to end the interaction as soon as possible.

The forest feels like warm wood again.
Yellow that drifts through thick canopies unseen, green that fills the entire sky, of gods' reach. The trees that play like instruments, wind and string fusing together in an eternal polyphonic noise. You can taste it in your mouth, the honey of wooden aroma and walnuts, hidden in the past and found in the present, stored cold beneath the aged roots of the oak tree.

It quiets and comes back around. The crackling sounds of the gods' musician, his strings that move the human faced deer in crooked ways, crooked as the bark of their trees, crooked as their branches and as the bend of their stream. He plays the warm deep melodies that lend color to the creatures observed from above.

Sunkissed greens and browns cradle like memories, memories beyond and before mortality.