#slow thoughts

Somewhere along the scroll, you stopped reacting. Not because you stopped caring, but because there was nowhere left for the caring to land.

This isn’t burnout. It’s something quieter. Like a soul running out of shelf space.

I found a reflection that put this feeling into words. It’s not loud. It doesn’t try to fix. It just… sees.

I made a mistake in class the other day. A grammar question came up, one of those slippery ones that looks simple until it isn’t, and I gave the wrong answer. Confidently.

Later, when I was alone, I looked it up. I read, cross-checked, double-checked. And yes, I was wrong.

So the next day, I walked into the room and told them.

“My explanation yesterday wasn’t right,” I said. “Here’s what I’ve found since.”

My students, young, wide-eyed, kind, stared at me, genuinely surprised.

“You can be wrong?” one of them asked, half-joking, half-serious. “Yes,” I said, smiling. “A lot, actually.”

🌼

I’m not a native English speaker. I learned the language through years of reading borrowed books, watching subtitles, listening closely, speaking softly. I never had a rulebook in hand, I had instinct, rhythm, and then later, correction.

Even now, I’m still learning the rules that others grew up with. I’ve taught myself enough to teach others. But I’ve never stopped being a student.

I think it’s important that they see this. That their teacher, a figure usually expected to be right, can also be wrong, and own it. That it doesn’t diminish her. That it doesn’t end the learning but instead opens it.

Some lessons are taught by accident. This one was about honesty. About revising. About not needing to perform perfection in order to be a good guide.

If anything, it made the room warmer.

Persimmons Rain, I think, is full of these small, unexpected turns. A lesson where the teacher learns. A correction that becomes connection. A grammar error that becomes a story.

Day 19 - Sleep Deprivation

TW: thoughts of death

Taglist: @lave-whump, @hurting-fictional-people <3 - Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist - join the fun! 

This is a continuation of Day 5 and Day 8! (Day 4 hasn't happened yet)

Laurence shifted his weight from one foot to another. How long has it been since I slept? he wondered miserably. He didn’t even remember how long it had been since he took Kimberly’s place. How long it had been since he had descended into this dungeon that was deeper than hell. Every waking hour (and sometimes every sleeping hour), Wayne would torment him.

The whipping and cuts from the first day were only the beginning - just as Wayne had said. Laurence had been forced underwater in ice baths, denied food for long periods of time, had boiling water splashed on him, been burned with chemicals, and chained in stress positions. Now Wayne had chained Laurence in an upright position and left him like that. At first it wasn't so bad, Laurence was relieved to be left alone for once. But, whenever he started to nod off, something would wake him. Maybe a loud noise would play, making Laurence jump out of his skin. Or water would pour on him, chilling him to the bone. Sometimes the chains would move up, forcing Laurence to stand on tiptoes just to try to keep the pressure off of his wrists.

So, I guess I’m not going to be allowed any sleep? Of course. That’s too much of a luxury to ask. Inwardly, Laurence rolled his eyes, but he had no strength to spare on the outside. It was as if a needle had been forced into the back of his head and white noise was injected into his skull, overtaking his brain. His limbs felt slow and unresponsive, like a robot that needed charging. Yet his skin felt more sensitive than ever before - the smallest drop of water could send icy chills up and down his spine. His thoughts were scattered like mice before a hungry cat. Even when he could form a coherent thought, it was like trying to walk through molasses. His eyes felt like they were weighted down by bags of sand.

I feel like I’m a dead body, and I’m buried under mountains of sand, Laurance groaned despairingly. I just want this to end. Yet Laurence knew what he had signed up for - he would be here until Wayne got bored, or he died.

~Here’s a collection of photos of me in awe of fall. I am certaint that in my past life I was a tree. 🍂🍁

Sincerely,