It is time for me to make my escape.

After two and a half years, nearly 3,000 posts, this blog has reached the end.  Earlier this week I decided; I’m moving on from Tumblr.

I decided not to delete ofgriefanddust, because there are too many baby animal pictures and Stephen Colbert gifs and pictures of Nikolaj with dirty captions.  But it will no longer be updated, and I am gone.

There is no reason to blog here any longer.  Jaime and Brienne are likely apart for awhile.  Lately Tumblr only makes me sad and frustrated and I want to be far away from it.  I need peace and happiness in my life, and to focus on important things.  I’m still trying to recover from two family deaths, one of which was sudden and life altering.    I am still learning about myself but I know I am not the person some judge me to be:  they don’t know anything about me. 

To my followers and friends, I wish you peace.  To the people I follow who have brought me laughter and shown me kindness, I wish you peace.  The people who once followed me and left for any reason - peace.  To the anons who sent hate - even you who told me to kill myself, and you who called me a c**t - I wish you peace.  If we have butted heads or locked horns, I wish you peace.  Anyone reading this, I wish you peace.

( am going to queue this to post again in a few days, for any of my followers who might have missed it.)

There are other ways to contact me, as some of you know.

Adios, Tumblr, and one last gif before I go:


Grief can destroy you - or focus you. You can decide a relationship was all for nothing if it had to end in death, and you alone. Or you can realize that every moment of it had more meaning than you dared to recognize at the time, so much meaning it scared you, do you just lived, just took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and didn’t allow yourself to consider the sacredness of it. The answer to the mystery of existence is the love you shared sometimes so imperfectly, and when the loss wakes you to the deeper beauty of it, to the sanctity of it, you can’t get off your knees for a long time, you’re driven to your knees not by the weight of the loss but gratitude for what preceded the loss. And the ache is always there, but one day not the emptiness, because to nurture the emptiness, to take solace in it, is to disrespect the gift of life.

Odd Thomas (via sequinedstrawberries)

To love a TV show is to know one of two things: Either it will eventually leave you, or you will eventually leave it. There’s no middle ground for the committed. Once you’re in, you’re in, and you’re going to be in until the thing is canceled or until you lose interest because you’ve either figured out all of the show’s tricks or it’s just not the same anymore. That show you loved more than anything? It will eventually feel sort of old and pointless to you after a while, and you’ll have moved on to some new thing that feels fresher but will inevitably disappoint you somewhere down the line. And so it goes. You’ll someday remember that show you loved with such intensity—it will probably be off the air by this point—and you’ll wonder idly why they don’t make ’em like that anymore. The answer is because you’re not who you were anymore, and you can’t fall for a show like that because you’re no longer the same person.