I miss him. Of course I miss him. It's understandable.
After a dear friend introduced me to the Avilion Grand Ballroom, I took the kitten there. He wanted a quiet place where we could discuss the--at that time, one or two months ago--upcoming move. I wanted a place of such sweeping beauty I wouldn't mind the pain of the memory, there.
Avilion worked for both of us--the quiet hush as we spoke in low voices, little more than the scrape of his shoes on the turns, the swish of my skirts, the utter clarity of everything, in that place. Single most breathtaking ballroom I've seen on the grid, hands down.
Of course I miss him. It will be harder to contact him, he's so far away. The effort will be made, but I know how it is...people leave the grid, I maintain, I communicate, I reach out...and then I get distracted. It's a common fate, but no less distressing for all that it's common.
Severance...destabilization...parting...this understanding hovers near me and I wait. Trapped in that moment between inhaling the shock of it, and exhaling and moving on. I can't move forward. I don't know how.
I still need to finish this dress. Maybe buy the settee. Work on more attire. Decide once and for all what I'm doing with my rental land, and how it's going to look, because as it is now, it's not even a sidewise approximation of what I wanted, and...so much to do.
So much I want to do.
So much I want not to do.
My diamond's clouded over where it used to shine like light,
And the day keeps running faster,
Into the arms of night...
The stitches on the tapestry say,
"Everything in time,
Will find its way home again,"
But I'm tired of crying...
When did it stop being fun, this existence? I need that back. When there's too much drama for the girl who lives at the heart of it, there's something wrong.
There's something wrong. Now I need to fix it.
I don't know how to do that, either...but at least I'm committed to trying.
(Lyrics are from "No Second Chances" by Blackmore's Night.)