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Have your character(s) write a Therapeutic letter to a friend

Sometimes writing is a way of dealing with inner emotions. Something we don’t want to say outloud.

“What we write is the state of mind at the time that it’s written” - me :grimacing:

Those why questions that haunt our minds:

  • Why am I faced with this difficult challenge?
  • Why did they do that to me?
  • Why was I harmed?
  • What have I done to deserve this?

Writing things down can both help to let go and see things from a different perspective. This also counts for your characters.


@RPers it is time to crawl into the skin of your characters and write a therapeutic letter to a friend.

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Does it have to be a “friend” or can it be like a journal entry? :thinking:

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I would say journal or family would be okay

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Sender: Bryn
RP: Westeria rp.
To: His sister (close as a friend).

Dear Ustrina,

I know I’ve done wrong. I have abandoned our family and betrayed our kind. When you read this, I know you’re either worried sick, given up on- or hate me. But is it really only my fault? As I was merely trying to learn our magical ways when my own powers turned against me. The magic that we were to see as holy, has been the thing that killed me if it wasn’t for what we believed to be our enemy. Why is it that we are to fight when there is so much we can learn from each other? Am I a traitor for turning against my kind, or did I do well to follow those who gave me a chance to live?
I don’t know anymore.

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Writer: Samantha Harker
Journal entry: 66,651
Day: Sept. 4th
RP: FTD

I continue to think the idea of starting a journal entry with “Dear Journal” is stupid.

After all these years, deep down, I find I still care. I care about my reputation, I care about my gorgeous mother and my overly intimidating father, I care about how I dress and how I look, despite that I can never see my own reflection. I care about how I see people being treated even if they deserve it. I care about being called a “monster” or a “freak”, even though I was born this way. I find I even care about something as trivial as the person whose blood I feed on when I go “out” to eat. I also still find that I cannot express these things I care about like “normal” “people” and have to write in this journal every day just to let it out.

Till tomorrow or whatever,

P.S. Remember to burn this entry completely!

Samantha

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Writer: Gwenyth
Diary entry: 1
RP: Contravisum

Dear Diary,

I’m not like the other kids, I can smell things, hear things, feel something in the air, a beat a rhythm. Mom and Dad have been acting weird. I hardly see mom after sunset, but at night I hear the softly growling coming from a distant room. I’m taught two other languages I can barely pronounce but somehow am able to speak. I may look human but I only feel human…partially. Maybe I’ll ask them tomorrow.

Till then,

Gwenyth


Writer: Gwenyth
Diary entry: 5
RP: Contravisum

Dear Diary,

MAGIC EXISTS!!! It’s calling to me, so magnetic. I can feel it, coursing through me with such intensity that one day I simply looked into a mirror, thinking a throwaway wish, nothing really. but then, just like magic, the illusion flickered for a moment, I saw nothing different about myself at first, except one or shall I say two small rather pointy ears. All this time I thought myself but a simple human, and yet felt so different. Now the truth is revealed…I am half elf, half human. A freak, I fear I can’t confront my parents yet. So, in addition to my human schooling, I will learn every ounce of elven magic or any magic I can before I confront the humans who stole me from my real family, then and only then will I find out the truth…

Wish me luck,

Gwenyth…(if that’s even my real name)


Writer: Gwenyth
Diary entry: 10
RP: Contravisum

Dear Diary,

My affinity for the Arcane, the magic that courses through me was stronger than I realized, I suspect I am more than what I seem, but still cannot confront my “parents”. Today, a simple illumination spell shattered a nearby lightbulb, so, I decided to visit a witch and see if she could help me figure out what’s wrong with me. When I tell you that color drained from her face and was replaced by a look of pure terror, she ran from me, screaming about the end of all. She was found dead a few moments later, it seems I have a guardian angel watching over me, although I suspect my parents, I am confident they would never do that. I believe my mysterious rescuer was either human, elven, or, perhaps something else entirely. I will find them but for now I must spend time with my family, I think they suspect me. Sneaking out at night, barely looking them in eye, except to lie, Someone is coming, I continue when it’s safe…


closed due to inactivity