let's raise a glass or two to all the things I've lost on you

There are times in any life when nostalgia becomes its own toxin in the system. My life, I think I've grown used to the presence of memory's poison, but some nights I'm still brought up short by unananswered questions, digging down to the tender, flinching points.



And this one, in particular...why am I still haunted by old love? Or to be specific, old loves, I should say.

The demon and the vampire still haunt me. The first one, I should say--the second, the Sídhe-sided, half-Drow Queen's Raven, he just bemuses. I wish him well wherever life has taken him. But those first two...they linger. They prick and sting, even in recall. Even with distance.



And I think...I think it wasn't just that I was new on the grid. That's its own opiate to the mind, that rush of new experience, new desires, new realities...that happens to everyone. I am not unique there, far from. I think it comes down to intensity.



All endings hurt. I don't deny that. But the first two relationships I ever had on the grid--one ended in death, the other ended in betrayal, and then death, and...what does the mind do with that? My mind, as with so many things, went completely off the rails when the vampire died, because I had no good place to put that in context, to begin to move away from it, make my way forward.

And when the demon died...it was just one more acid drop of spite on the wound, already raw and deep.



And of every relationship I've had since...there have been soaring heights, there have been crushing depths. There are those I will never forget, amd those I cannot even remember the shape of their name. They all have places in memory's river. I have adapted, have adjusted, to eacb loss, and for the most part, everyone's moved on.

But those two.



And it's not that they didn't bring their own lessons. One taught me that virtual death can be as real, as painful, as actual. The other taught me that my polyamorous, compersive soul can feel jealousy, and the bite of that is even more acid than the pain of loss. Jealousy is swallowing fire, expecting it to be sweet. Jealousy is crippling fear, crushing anxiety, blatant mistrust. Jealousy is defiantly trying to wrest control from an uncaring universe, instead of floating, blissful and relaxed, from shore to shore.

But I did learn. I learned, I grew, I shifted, I altered, I transformed, and every time I returned to true, I learned new lessons. And I like where I am now. My heart is full, and healing, even if my schedule's a bit difficult to manage. I am aware I hold other hearts in my hands, just as they hold mine, and it is up to me to neither clench too tightly, or let them slip through my fingers, uncaring. It is always a great gift, that trust, and I try never to prove it false.



But they're still...there. Lurking in memory. Refusing to completely go away. Was it just the pain? The loss, so intense the first year on the grid? It's certainly not that I want either back. Of everyone I've ever lost, there's perhaps two I'd return to, and...circumstance and time alone will prevent that. One by his own choice, one by mine, and perhaps that's for the best.



So perhaps it's finally time to accept they have nothing left to teach me. They certainly have nothing to say to me. Lost for so many years I'm not even looking, if I ever was. No trembling, anxious thought that I might be missing...something...no, I know that much. I'm clear on that.



So...I will let go. I will detach the last remaining nostalgic threads, tattered and frayed, and release them into the dark. I am better now, different now, stronger now, and they are no part of me going forward. They have been, far too long, a part of me at all steps previous. Enough.

(Stills from, of course, Christine Aguilera's "Fighter".)