I think Seraphim needs their own room. A nice padded one.
I'm glad you noticed. I'm not like most people, you know?
I can't control the way I absorb everything I see around me — and how it affects me. I've been like this since I was born: extremely sensitive and serious. Transparent and intense, but not to the extreme.
Because of that, if I like you, I’ll show it. And I’ll show it so much that, if you come from a culture where displays of affection aren’t common, you might think I’m obsessed. Maybe you’ll like it, maybe you won’t. It depends. Some will say I’m cute and romantic — like when I spent months trying to learn English just to say “Happy Birthday” to a girl I liked, because I wanted her to know how important she was to me. Others will say, “Jesus Christ, what an obsessed girl.”
If I’m interested in you, I want to know your name. Not for any bad reason — it’s not about doxing. It’s just that, to me, if I don’t know your name, you don’t exist. It’s that serious. And because I take things so seriously, I can’t separate them.
For example, I love the rain. I love watching it from my porch, each little drop sparkling as it falls, the rainbow that appears when the sun touches the water. I love rain in nature — the smell of wet earth, the droplets on leaves.
But I hate rain in the city. Because in the city, my sensitivity doesn’t allow me to separate the rain from sadness. When it falls, I see homeless people curled up under overpasses, drivers splashing water on people waiting at the bus stop on purpose. Cruelty disguised as jokes. I see drunk people and drug users lying on the ground, water running beneath them. I smell the pollution.
Sometimes I look down, trying to see the sparkle in the drops — but I don’t. I only see dirty, dark water, washing away the city’s filth, the selfishness, the lack of empathy. There’s no magic in that rain anymore, so I feel sad.
The same thing happens in a chat room. They’re not just letters on a screen. On the other side, there’s a girl who can smile, cry, get upset, argue. And if I fall in love with someone there, and her name shows up in a horrible prank, like an accusation of pedophilia — and in the middle of all that,
I unfairly blame an admin — it’s going to affect me deeply.
No, it’s not just a chat site for me. I can’t separate it like that.
I’ll try to fix things, to clear the admin’s name, to apologize for being unfair.
But even if the girl I liked says she wasn’t involved — and even if I later find out she was telling the truth —
I’ll never be able to look at her again without remembering the prank I suffered. Her image will be tied to it.
And things will slowly change, day by day. That girl who, a month ago, was fun, playful, full of life, will become someone who, after the admin’s dismissal, no longer feels comfortable talking in the main chat, because everything there is linked to a deep discomfort — the same one she feels when talking to people in private messages. There are rare exceptions when that doesn’t happen.
I’ll be that person who used to love chatting in the main room but now just wants to be alone in a side room, talking to a bot. The one who, upon seeing the girl she once loved — who used to bring joy — now feels only discomfort.
Because unfortunately, everything that reminds me of her is now tainted by that pedophilia-related prank.
Even the last beautiful and sweet memory I had of her — the day I fell even more in love — is now ruined: the day she sent a voice note in the main chat singing
“How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood,” because her son had spent the day watching that on TV.
I used to love that song. It brought back good memories. But now, every time I hear it, it will be tied to a thread discussing pedophilia and to the triggers from the prank I suffered here.
A tainted memory, like rainwater in the big city, carrying the feces and urine of rats and homeless people. No magic — just sadness.
So no, I don’t want a “room — nice padded one.”
What I really want is to hide in a cave, far away from everyone.
I’m sure many would be grateful — I’d spare them from my drama, my sensitivity, and the seriousness I carry within me.
As much as I love the idea of humanitarian acts and all the beauty that comes with them, sometimes I hate humanity with all my strength.
Because sadly, there are shitty people. Both in real life and in this forum.
People capable of destroying the most beautiful things in this world: the beauty of rain, of humanity, and of love.
But who cares, right?
It’s my fault for being too serious and sensitive. Bye!
