You're where the Wild Things are...

An in-character blog set in the universe of EVE Online. These are the private diary entries of Lady Ekaterina Mariya deSilvestris, a minor Amarrian Noble and Capsuleer. Other existing characters within EVE will be referred to throughout, though any opinions and views expressed are those of this character. These entries may touch on or directly address mature themes such as violence, sexuality, race and ethnicity, and mental health. As noted, any views are those of the character.

Before we begin, I feel it important to say a few words on the subject of mental health. Ekaterina, or Ekat as many call her, is something of a troubled soul. This aspect of her character is a personal choice I have made, for very personal reasons. Although EVE is a game in which the players can immerse themselves to a greater or lesser degree as they wish, mental health is a very real issue for many people. Those two simple words cover a myriad different issues and concerns that affect people directly or indirectly every day all, over the world.

If you find yourself affected by any issues touched upon in these posts, or if you face your own troubles, please know that there are people out there you can turn to; doctors, friends, family - there is ALWAYS someone. If you are an EVE player, then Broadcast 4 Reps chat is available, staffed by wonderfully kind and good-hearted volunteers. If you know of someone who has mental health issues, then please just let them know you are there. It doesn't have to be anything big, just a smile, a cup of tea, a quick phone call about last night's game - just a little thing to show they aren't forgotten.

You Never Fly Alone.
11-05-YC121

Another loss.

I thought I had managed to get away, barely, but the ship's systems went offline, connection between my pod and the ship broke, and by the time I had reconnected, the enemy had caught up with me and destroyed my ship.  I was fortunate, I suppose, that my pod was spared.

So, with my Prophecy-class destroyed, I shall be unable to take part in the Operation against the Heretics later today.  It feel as though this is some sign from God that my purpose lies elsewhere, that I am not suited to the larger classes of ship.  The only reason I had even fitted a Battlecruiser was because it has become so obvious Frigates are of no use in these Operations.  That said, I have hardly proved much use in Frigate-class vessels either.

I am angry at myself.  I should have known better, been more careful.  I was surprised, and I did not react well.  I think perhaps I am unsuited to combat, and if that is so, what use am I to the Praetorians, to the Crusade?

Already I can feel that Darkness uncoiling within.  I am trying, trying, to lock my mind against what I know will now come - the self-doubt, the self-recrimination, the self-hate.  The self-harm.  Like some slow, heavy, dark tendrils, they will worm their way into my mind, no matter how hard I resist.  Weak, slow, useless; and there is only ever one release, one relief.

I wish Constantin were here, though he would doubtless be ashamed of me.  He would not say it, he would fill my world with kindness and love, but he would be, deep down.  How could he not be?  To have a lover so weak, so pathetic.  I do not deserve him.  He deserves better.  Yet how I wish he was here. I wish, I wish, I wish.

Wishes never really come true.
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