"You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait, just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet."
~~Franz Kafka (from the Fourth Octavo Notebook, 1918)

Hey, after years now, I finally revisited the Elysium Suites and they're still there! I--



--oh.

No, that's okay, we're past that. I got the message.

you say we're just friends
but friends don't know the way you taste

Though I am still occasionally receiving hammer shots between the eyes from other areas. Well, part and parcel, I guess. And that is a part of it.

But, let's talk horses. I know, not my usual topic, but...since someone went out of their way to track down a certain horse coat...



May I present Absinthe?



So, for whatever reason, when I was given the horse, my naming conceit started with alcohols. The first horse I rigged out was Ardbeg (which I named for the color of the spirit, not the shade of the bottle), followed by Glenfiddich (which, at least in my experience, is lighter in tone), Mezcal (because I had a buff coat as well as a significant life event around Mezcal, which I am not going to talk about, other than to say, yes, apparently eating the worm does cause mild hallucinations)...and then...I had to think.

At some point I will find a suitable blue Paint that will be Bombay, because gin is my first true love, let's be honest, but...I still wanted an absinthe.

The only 'green' skin I could find on the grid--that wasn't an Aprille Fools' Day jest on a frog--was very, very pale. But I finally shrugged, figured it was the best I was going to get, and put together Sazerac (which, if you make it with rye, turns out slightly reddish, but if you substitute Glenfiddich and leave out the Angostura, does turn out to be a pale, lemonish-green.



So that sort of worked, but...still no dark green skin.

And then...I received a gift. This skin is called "Absinthe" of course, at least the version I have. Ms. Darkwinter Magic of The Celtique Stallion made it, and I was told it should be up on her Marketplace store in the next few days, if it's not up now.

He's wearing with it the Teeglepet Running Braid Mane, and the Teeglepet Lace Braided Tail, both from REIN for the Hanoverian, which is the base horse. (Though I did color-tint them from the White Shade tone, to an olive, to better match the coat.) Also the TEEGLE Kokiri eyes from Tutto è Vanità & SharkBox. And the tack's also from REIN, their TeeglePet Elegant Saddle and the TeeglePet English bridle, both for the Hanoverian.

I won't lie--this is just about the single most expensive hobby I've ever been involved with in SL, and that counts shopping for both evening gowns and period-accurate Viking attire at stores that routinely start at L$500 per gown, but...well, I'm having fun?

And let's be honest, really--I have a couple different saddles now, I have a couple bridles, I have a few coats for both realism and just pure fun, so--at least from this point, it's pretty much mix and match? Absinthe was the horse that was going to have the most customization, because it turned out to be a shade that did not exist on the grid...until now.



And this is his long-suffering look when I steer him off the path into the weeds. He gives me this look a lot. But I'll get better!

And of course, the sim is Teegle's Equestrian Acres, which is actually a set of three rideable, conjoined sims, steeplechases, roads and riding trails. It's not the easiest to get around if you're just going for the trails, because they are HEAVILY invested in switchbacks? But if you don't mind mixing it up between your horse on cobble and your horse on packed earth, you're gold here.

So. Settling into the new reality. Crushing depression with occasional bright moments. Yeah, okay. Bring it on. I got this.



Oh, it is far too bright here. No no no. That won't do.

Pretty, to be sure...it's apparently based on the palace of Versailles, but damn. Everything glitters.



Ah, that's better. Kowloon, now...Kowloon is anything but bright, unless you count the neon.



See what I mean? Thirteen years on the grid. And perfect.

Well. I mean...

[22:33] KOWLOON SIM whispers: CAUTION:Firing Guns is strictly Prohibited. And all political insistence is not permitted. If you are caught breaking this rule,you will be banned.
[22:33] KOWLOON SIM whispers: 銃の使用は厳禁です。またあらゆる政治的主張を禁止します。守れない場合はBANします

They are based in Hong Kong, to be fair, but they've always aimed for impartiality where all are welcome. They don't want political talk from any side, they just want to be. Hard to argue with that.



I don't...think I've ever climbed this ladder before.

It's a long ladder.



Where on earth did it drop me off?? (I switched the lighting to sunset, because...wau. That is a lot of antennas!)



But, it was time to move on, and the Isles of Ice sounded vaguely familiar. And once I went, I realized I'd been here before. But some things have changed. And I don't remember the bright cyan building...



And there are penguins now! At least...I think they're penguins? They all have glowing cyan-teal eyes, though....



*narrows eyes* Don't think I don't see you over there. I do.

(Pictures taken at Carpathia Antiquity, Kowloon and the Isles of Ice [which is apparently premium only now?].)

This still hits my eyes as 'too complicated, cannot process', but...if you push past that initial reaction, there is some good here. I don't agree with everything on the wheel--for example, I truly believe that while jealousy can lead to anger, it's based in fear--it can help us get a general idea of base categories.

[INSERT FROM THE EDITRIX: Bolded due to importance: all the separate links I was given that link to various locales on the island? Everything traces back to Silhouettes. Sorry about that! And I did pitch this as just a tour, but considering...yeah, this is under the roleplay tag now.]

And this is a little odd. I could have sworn I covered the Isle on the blog before, but I went clear back to May and saw nothing. Rather than continue searching, then, I'm just going to assume I haven't, and cover it now.



So let me talk a little about the Isle Du Noir. The SLUrl above will drop visitors off outside of Silhouettes, which is a fairly good entry point to the sim, I think. The image above is of the very extensive bar inside the Art-Deco-styled club, and the bartender they've recently hired to keep track of incoming visitors. (Read, animesh bartender, but he rezzes in surprisingly fast, and does add that sense of occupation to the bar.)

Behind where visitors would rez in are found two things, one of which is a set of two marquees that advertise who's playing or DJing upcoming events, and which club they're doing it at (there's more than one). For the other...



If one is facing Silhouettes, and looks right, there's a tall, shadowed tunnel through the mountain. Go into that, and visitors will be taken to the docks (experience keys are a wonderful thing). This is where the majority of the island's economy is based--not only in incoming tourism, but in shipping of goods (legal and clandestine), importing of goods (see above), and various forms of skullduggery and maritime hijinks.



Just past the docks, there's something of a 'hidden' beach. I don't think it's intended to be fully concealed, just a little more private. There are cuddle spots, the terrain to get there is walkable, and I hear they're planning on installing a 7Seas fishing system soon.

The main conceit to remember with the Isle is that it's a nexus point. By that, I mean, in placement, it's essentially Bermuda from an alternate universe, set slightly closer within the Bermuda Triangle, and the time period is intended as general dieselpunk (which, in decor, seems to vary from 1920s to 1940s). But the big thing for me is their concept of portals--due to a magical glitch, a curse, or just natural oddity, these points are known to open up across the island, and allow visitors not only from other times, but other worlds, including species unknown to the alternate history the bulk of the island is set within.

Yes, friends--that means furs are allowed, along with other more magical races. Which, considering just how many "Humans Only" signs I'm seeing on the grid, is a very good thing indeed.



Atop the hill is the very posh Hotel. No, it doesn't have a name yet; they're actually holding a contest currently to find a proper one. But that is Ms. Helena Wells' limo out front, because she maintains rooms there.

The hotel is still a work in progress--the Isle is fairly 'new', in terms of sims, to be fair--but I'm told the intent will be two-fold--first, that each room in the hotel will be named after some well known celebrity (most from the 1940s, but I think a few from the 1930s, and possibly one from the 1950s); and second, that these rooms can be rented out to interested parties (though unknown if they mean for a span of nights, or semi-permanent), to help offset the cost of running the sim.

But it is fully decked out in style--I had to grit my teeth and cull the pictures down, but I may post some of the ones I have later of the interior, because it's all gilt glitter and white marble. The dining room is quite posh, and does have food (and diners will be offered a selection of gold tableware to use), as well as a selection of drinks. Plus coffee. Must have coffee.



Some things to remain aware of: while most of the Isle is (physically) in the sky, it's still a Moderate-rated sim. Though I'm not going to say where, precisely, visitors can find Adult furnishings, I would say discretion and mature behavior otherwise will ensure they stay there. But this is part of the basic layout--the 'main' section of the town below, with the hotel and the movie studio on a sort of 'loft' platform above. (And this doesn't take into account the floating Chinatown, which I will get to, because I'm fascinated by the concept.)



Speaking of the movie studio...I've heard it had some problems early on, and needed to be brought under new management. Due to that, while it is intended to be at least a period-accurate studio, it's a little sparse inside right now. This will be amended in time, especially if there's more interest in films made on the island.



I won't lie, this was the first place on the tour I walked in and immediately thought, I could live here. I have been in so many of these shops over the years, with a variegated plenitude of decorations. And just like Helel's Apotheca, I walked in and immediately could scent it in my mind: wax and green herbs, incense and amber, aging parchment, grave dust. The taste of spirits on the air, and that so, so subtle trace of arcane powers that are not yet mine, but could be, oh, could indeed be, if only I pay the right price.

Next door is Ichabod's Funeral Parlor, which is elegantly appointed, even though small, but the main distinctive feature for me was the eye in the pyramid logo on the door. How...fascinating.



And finally, the Flamingo Diner. Which is so bright and chipper and middle America it's nearly painful, but for some reason, it fits in, too. They serve milkshakes and cherry pie, mainly, but feel free to check them out.

That's all I'm covering for now--I have yet to make it to the airport, for example, or to the floating Chi-Nair, and I didn't even show off the radio station, the second music club, Foxy's, or bits of the terrain I found very well done (considering most of the 'island' itself is in a large square box inside a larger dome, the blending they've done with mesh landscaping is kind of phenomenal). But it is, at the least, an intro to the concept.

Essentially, if you like dieselpunk, like steampunk, like vintage anything, like piracy, smuggling, and underhanded dealings, or have any kind of character you'd like to try out on the streets of the Isle (because, remember those nexus points? ANYONE could potentially come through, from any time period, any race, any group, with the possible exception of child avatars)--I think you can. And it might be worth a go, just to see.

If nothing else, the dances at Silhouettes are fun.

Scammers come in many different forms these days, apparently.

[21:50] kxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: Hello !

Meet our scammer, Ms. K. She has one more line in this chat capture, and...that's it. Commented and poofed, apparently.

[21:50] kxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: I sell 1200 gachas that I collected for 6 months, clothes, shoes, hair etc ...
for 5000 lindens
interested IM

And that was it.

[21:50] Emilly Orr: Well dang
[21:50] Lxxxxx Sxxxxxxxx: hi not [kxxxx]

We'd had an issue in this group for a few weeks now, a male avatar, who tried to get women to 'help' him buy a skin.

[21:51] Emilly Orr: Hey, it's barely possible it's legit!

Emphasis on "barely", there.

[21:51] Bxxx Mxxxxxx: lol
[21:51] Dxxxxxx Sxxxxxxx: ugh gaaah!
[21:51] Sxxxx Sxxxxxxxxx: thats expensive
[21:51] Emilly Orr: Depends on how many rares, really.

Yeah, it can. But also, why not a list of things? I've seen people do that when they're selling a bunch of gacha items.

[21:51] Lxxxxx Sxxxxxxxx: [kxxxx] is bougie as heck
[21:51] Emilly Orr: That might be REALLY reasonable.
[21:52] Sxxxx Sxxxxxxxxx: you cant tell when you buy a box of assorted stuff though
[21:52] Emilly Orr: Like, I regularly price rares at L$500, depending on said rare, so.
[21:52] Sxxxx Sxxxxxxxxx: it might be all rubbish
[21:52] Emilly Orr: It might be
[21:52] Axxxxx Txxx: yolo
[21:53] Emilly Orr: [Kxxxx], don't suppose you have a general list?

I am trying to decide if I'm interested enough to IM. Or maybe, bored enough.

Her profile reads "I can make your dream come true"...Doesn't look good.

[21:55] Emilly Orr: Do you at least have a list of them?
[21:55] Second Life: User not online - message will be stored and delivered later.

Figures.

[21:54] Dxxxxxxx Fxxxxx: it is like anything else..how much it is worth to the person buying it! If they want them, they will buy it..lol! Smiling, i know i have!
[21:55] Emilly Orr: Welp. Asked. She's offline.
[21:55] Emilly Orr: So I am going to say scam.

Yep.

[21:56] Dxxxxxxx Fxxxxx: did you check to see if she has any media platforms under her avie's name
[21:56] Emilly Orr: How would I do that?
[21:56] gxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: It's a scam.
[21:57] gxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: That has been making the rounds in other groups with different wording.
[21:57] sxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: It's the same profile pic that many scam accounts have used in the past month.
[21:57] Emilly Orr: Ewwww.

That's even worse, then. That's being blatant about the fact you're just in world to rip people off.

So, definitely a scam. Right. Blocking.

(Note from the Editrix: obviously, now, this is one of the entries that was written before the one posted on the 21st. Just FYI.)



I'm thinking it over
the way you make me feel all sexy but it's causing me shame

Nothing but time, when all I want is less of it. Isn't it always the way?




I wanna lean on your shoulder
I wish I was in love but I don't wanna cause any pain
and if I'm feeling like I'm even, we've got nothing to gain

And I'm searching for something, and sometimes I even know what it is, but the rest of the time...it's just become the search. For meaning, for understanding, for...solutions. That never seem to come.



what if I never even see you 'cause we're both on a stage
don't tell me listen to your song because it isn't the same

And we're reaching towards one path forward, not multiple. Not even two, now. I'm starting to drag my steps.

(Insert from the Editrix: Yeah, at this point we've been on one path for a while. No signs of offshoots, but that's not exactly great...)



I don't wanna say your love is a waiting game

Oh, fat chance, sign. The spin cycle always brings drama.



baby, I'm thinking it over
what if the way we started made it something cursed from the start?
what if it only gets colder?

It's like wandering through the forest, looking for bread crumbs. There are so few left, but still we search for them. Fruitless, but it's all we know how to do.



would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this was smart
'cause lately I've been scared of even thinking 'bout where we are

And I am finding all the cuddle spots in all the pretty places when I'm all alone, how's that for massive irony?



what if I never even see you 'cause we're both on a stage

I may have to return to this sim and do a full entry. This is Covenstead, on Summerisle. Yes, that Summerisle, from the original film. I am fascinated.

And it has some lovely calm spots to reflect.

Which will probably be even better when my outlook isn't so shadowed.



don't tell me listen to your song because it isn't the same
I don't wanna say your love is a waiting game

Great. Another lighthouse. Just what I needed.

Getting a little heavy-handed with the symbolism, aren't we?



don't tell me listen to your song because it isn't the same
I don't wanna say your love is a waiting game

And back into the fog. Or maybe I never really left...

(Pictures taken at Angel of Pain, Historic Route 101, Home of Paine, Alas, Red Meadow, the Covenstead on Summerisle, Ile de Orlleans, Bubastis and Rosehaven Thornwood. Lyrics from Waiting Game by BANKS.)

(Note from the Editrix: obviously, now, this is one of the entries that was written before the one posted on the 21st. Just FYI.)

(Also from the Editrix: the 2020 Eisner Awards nominees have been announced, and on that list for this year is The Oatmeal's very relevant comic on cognitive bias and the backfire effect, You’re Not Going to Believe What I’m About to Tell You. It is brilliant, absolutely true, and still won't change some peoples' minds, but it is well worth reading anyway.)



baby, when our hearts awoke
think of all the rules we broke
in the name of love we hoped
little did we know

So, that's part of the problem too, isn't it? At first there were no rules to break. Or, those we knew about, we had accepted, and were easily working within.

That changed, later, but at first...everything was above board at first.



darling, all the time we spent
ignoring all the consequences
and hiding from big evidence
hoping things would change

At first.

I still can't pinpoint a single point where things went off the rails. And maybe it's just causing additional frustration to keep looking. But my mind seeks source points, and especially in this case, while I want to know when it happened, exactly, when it went wrong, and if I could have gathered any clues to head off the angst.



but the yearning grew like the loneliness of a castaway
to be near to you was the only thing in my heart each day
keeping me alive till your rescue came
honey, you mean everything to me

Eventually I'll fully realize the wagon is stuck in the mud, and get out to push it free...or give up and just wander off. 50/50 which will happen at this point.



you ought to know by now
love means everything
you ought to know by now
only love can bring happiness

Ironically, I just pulled a simple reading from one of my Tarot decks, and at this point pulled the Hermit under "fears". Which is interesting in itself, as the Hermit's generally, 'Relax, chicklet, you got this, just let everything go and it will work itself out.' And...that is so not what's happening.



wishful thinking spent in vain
what to lose and what to gain
all the guilt and all the pain
seemed to come away

Pulled again, and got the High Priestess as the next card, for the current situation. "Listen carefully and the secret you want revealed will be shared with you." REALLY? REALLY, it WILL? Void stars, WHEN?!

Because throwing intuition and a calm mind at this one is not only not working, but also, seems counter-intuitive.



and baby, when our hearts awoke, oh
think of all the rules we broke
in the name of love we spoke
little did we know

Yeah, but...I mean, still. Through all of this, and anything left out there that may jump up and flay me with nettles...I wouldn't have the months to this point erased. I'm still holding to that.



but the hope was there like a ray of sun on a cloudy day
any change from impossibility to the only way
love can conquer all and it's here to stay
honey, you mean everything to me

I said at one point he wasn't a touchstone point I come back to, wasn't a solid support for my structure.

I...may have been wrong.



you ought to know by now
love means everything, oh
you ought to know by now
only love can bring happiness
you ought to know by now...

Oh, I'm not so idealistic, a lot of things can bring happiness. One can even live life without love, it is possible, after all.

I just...I'd really rather not, if I have a choice in things.

(Photos taken at Fantasy Coast, Cinnamon Fantasy Textures & Mods, Barefoot Servants' Romantic Forest, Nocturne 2, Mystical City of Cathal and the Isle of Whispering Pines. Lyrics are Robert Palmer's Know By Now.)

(Note from the Editrix: obviously, this is one of the entries that was written before the one posted on the 21st. Just FYI.)



when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
same mistakes again, for you?
when will I learn to lock my heart so it doesn't break again, no
doesn't break again in two

Another night, another sim, another fire that feels cold compared to the heat under my skin.

I should’ve known, shoulda known by now
that I was always gonna come back around
back in the day you know you let me down
thought maybe I’d finally figured you out, ‘cause--

You'd think I'd be used to this by now. That it would have gotten boring.

Maybe it is, and I just haven't caught on yet.



you said that things would be different
but all that turns out to be fiction
breaking dishes in the kitchen, walking on glass, babe
you say it's space that your needing, I say forget it, I’m leaving

And there are never answers from the moon, even when the moon was closer than this. The moon's no longer in my sky.

but history keeps on repeating
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
same mistakes again for you
when will I learn to lock my heart so it doesn’t break again, no
doesn’t break again in two

The lesson, I am told--repeatedly--is that I won't learn to stop making the mistakes, but to become perceptive enough to catch them sooner. Which is great, really, so--when is that going to happen?



when will I learn that I, I can do better,
I can do better, much better than you
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
over and over again over and over again

It's not a question of better or worse. It's not even really a question of obedience, I'm very committed to obedience. It's that the signposts I thought might be in the distance...Well. They've gotten closer. They're no longer a possible, they're a definite. And they say exactly what I thought they would.

Feared they would.

And there's no way off the road.

I’m all out of new words to say
running on empty out of reasons to stay
my friends told me it would go this way
they call me stupid when I say that you’ve changed, but--

So what am I looking for in all the traveling? I can't even say it's answers, really, because my answers are going to come from within or without, when it's time; I have no control over that end of the process. I'm more looking for...temporary. Temporary patches, temporary fixes, temporary distractions, temporary ways to pull me out of my head.



you said that things would be different
but all that turns out to be fiction
but history keeps on repeating

Because all the gods know, I'm not going to find any help inside this skull.

when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
same mistakes again for you
when will I learn to lock my heart so it doesn’t break again, no
doesn’t break again in two

Or maybe it has nothing to do with mind, but body. That's a possibility. Find something to distract the body...entirely from overthinking...that doesn't leave new scars.

Tall order.



when will I learn that I, I can do better
I can do better, much better than you
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
over and over again over and OVER again--

Underwater again, and this is becoming a theme. Brought the train up only to fall under the surface again. Is there a lesson here I'm missing? I mean, it's pretty, don't get me wrong, and the rules under the waves are different enough they do neatly distract me...but only for small amounts of time.

I should know better, I should know better
I should know better, tell me why
I can’t remember, I can’t remember, the way it hurts me every time

Past pattern reflective, haven't I said that before? Breakups and shakeups, haven't I had those before? Is there anything in the adult end of my life that isn't repeating?

Don't I ever learn from anything?



when will I learn that I, I can do better
I can do better, much better than you
when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
over and over again over and OVER AGAIN--

And there is no altar to any god I've ever met that can wrap this up neatly for me in an understandable way.

There was something that happened at a religious conference, once...I was attending an open Candomblé ritual, since I didn't know precisely how it differed from voudon ones I'd attended--but it turned out I was wrong on the precise name, and it was an open Yoruba ritual.

The rider for Yemọja drifted over, and looked me intently in the face. The drums were hot, bodies were moving, the smell of salt and skin and sea was dizzying, but still she watched me.

"Child," she said. "Come down. You are so far away. Come join the people."

And I looked around, at the hotel conference room packed with bodies, all shades, all states of dress and undress, reaching, dancing, kneeling, crying, laughing--and I just raised my arms, gesturing to the room.

"I'm here, Mother. I'm right here."

And she just shook her head. "No, you're up on the mountain. You need to come join us." And she withdrew into the crowd, and the rider collapsed, shaking, and she was patted with a towel and given water and seated in a corner, and I just stood there, wondering what had happened.



when will I learn to stop me making the same mistakes again
same mistakes again for you
when will I learn to lock my heart so it doesn’t break again, no
doesn’t break in two

Maybe I still don't know. Maybe I only think I've come down the mountain. Maybe I'm still far from the people.

But if so, I no longer know how to get to them. If they're not where I can see, where are they? And if I'm not where I can be seen, where am I?

And ultimately, will it help with coping, because that is the ultimate question behind every statement at present. Because if it won't, maybe I don't want to come down at all.

(Pictures taken at the Knife's Edge, Mindgardens, Overlook, La Lune Parish, the UPR Forest Reserve, Undead Darkness, New Haven by Night, Dark Sanctuary of the Red Forest and Death by Moonlight. Lyrics are from Paloma Faith's Mistakes.)

(Note from the Editrix: Because these are mounting, sadly, I'm going to start generally indicating when they were written, as opposed to published. This one is from the 21st of July.)



dreams, that's where I have to go
to see your beautiful face anymore
I stare at a picture of you and listen to the radio

Wow. They have big rats in Athetis.

And it's not that bad. I have access. Access is permitted. Access was never refused, and access was actively encouraged, odd as that sounds to my brain on occasion. And that's not a small thing; it could easily have been denied. Not that I would have preferred that, but it could have been stripped from me, too, and it wasn't.

Small threads of connection that remain, but they are there.



hope, hope there's a conversation
we both admit we had it good
but until then it's alienation, I know
that much is understood
and I realize

I wonder if this is based on an actual SL map. I don't recognize any other continent names besides Zindra.

The funny thing, here, is...people say all the time that they can't survive things. That's not my issue. This won't kill me; I can be this miserable and survive. The year it took my father to die, that didn't kill me either. It was painful; it was confusing, it was destabilizing and unforgiving, it never let up for twelve solid months...And, at times, I felt excruciatingly raw, trying to process it all. But it didn't kill me.

I've survived worse. I've survived worse more than once.



if you ask me how I'm doing
I would say I'm doing just fine
I would lie and say that you're not on my mind

And yeah, I don't do that. It would never occur to me. I have answered 'fine' when I'm anything but; that's common, that's everyday. 'Fine' is the universal social response, meaning anything from 'I'm having a great day' to 'my job sucks' to 'I'm burying my grandfather tomorrow'. While it's not the truth in many situations, it's not quite considered an outright--or, at least, bald-faced--lie, either. And it has been said, and truthfully so, that very few people expect an honest, open answer to 'How are you?'.

But if I can't stop thinking of someone? I have never, not once, denied that. Even if, at times, it would have been massively in my best interests to pretend disaffection.

A certain incubus comes to mind.



but I go out and I sit down at a table set for two
and finally I'm forced to face the truth,
no matter what I say I'm not over you, not over you

And sure, in a lot of ways, how I'm dealing with this? It's entirely within my control. I could do the work necessary to sever all ties. I could just stop talking. I could block and mute. It would take...gods, a lot, possibly up to and including deific intervention--which I've only ever asked for one other ex--but...it could be done. I could remove enough care, enough affection, enough yearning, to make things easier.

I don't want to do that. But I could. It's on the list of options.



damn, damn girl, you do it well
and I thought you were innocent
took this heart and put it through hell
but still, you're magnificent

I went over the chat logs tonight, finally. Took a bit to read through all of them, and while there were things I said in error--and while the initial announcement of the two-week cut-off period did come as shocking and unexpected as I remembered--it all came down to reactions. And mostly, reactions about restrictions.

Namely, mine. And how that other thought some of them were "bad".

We spent hours discussing that point and others, but we kept circling back. Because...if some of my restrictions were bad, were all of them considered bad? If some of them were bad, were they just bad because they limited him, or did the thinking go, they were bad because they existed at all?

I think...obviously, there was more to it, obviously, but..that was a lynchpin. That someone could become involved with me and not acknowledge the large part of my life that centers on my dominant. Because whether or not he's directly involved, he is always there. He's on the profile for reasons beyond 'Hey I know this guy'. My restrictions are as much a part of me at this point as bone and sinew, blood and skin. And this may come as a shock to some, but while that dominant is responsible for enforcing my restrictions, informing me as to why they exist, and making sure I can comply without conflict, they were not all chosen by him. Some were suggested, and some few were even chosen, by me.



I, I'm a boomerang, doesn't matter how you throw me
I turn around and I'm back in the game
even better than the old me
but I'm not even close without you

To be fair, I've never been 'better' after a loss. I've been less affected, but I've never bounced back to calm seas and following winds, from storms and lashing spray. There is always a change. I am always impacted. A little more hesitation, a little more pain in the eyes, a few more scars on the heart. Some additional melancholy lubricating the gears. Nothing that stops me, just enough to slightly alter the machine.



and if I had the chance to renew
you know there isn't a thing I wouldn't do
I could get back on the right track
but only if you'd be convinced
so until then...

The train's track has never been easy, and yes, it's spiraled off the rails before, and more than once. It's a good allusion to the process, but in all honesty, I had it before SL. My years on the grid have just reinforced it, given it physical weight and appearance, but...it's been a part of the backbrain for a long, long time.

"The course of true love never did run smooth", Shakespeare said, but I doubt he had fissionable materials, radiation, open wounds and stiletto-length shards of glass in mind. I don't think any love of his decided cigarette burns were a fun way to spend an evening. I don't think any love of his tried to have him killed, for instance, or tried to do it themselves. I don't think any love of his cut off contact so completely that he started to worry they'd actually died. (And no, I'm not talking about the SL fellow, there, but someone long before him. Though the irony that that's happened twice is palpable.)

On the other hand, this is Shakespeare; maybe he did. He could have had a train wreck all his own.



and finally I'm forced to face the truth,
no matter what I say, I'm not over you
not over you

And I wouldn't be me if I was, as I've said before. Given the choice, always given the choice, I would rather feel pain than feel nothing. I would rather be hurt by the world, if it's my only option, over sailing through it unaffected, leaving only a bare impression of movement and a whispered breath of air. Pain hurts, loss hurts, there is no aspect of love lost, dying, constrained or deceased that is simple, or easy. But as long as it hurts, I'm still alive. As long as it hurts I'm still moving. As long as it hurts the warning system is still active, telling me there are things to fix, to repair, to understand, to reprogram.

The animal in pain seeks not to be in pain, sure. Do I want this pain? Of course not. It doesn't make me happy, and, as far as it goes, it doesn't make the others involved in this happy. No one is rejoicing that things played out this way.

But we are here now. And while here is still bleak, I'm still breathing. I'm still moving. The train may be going slightly feral, which I'm sure is the current fuel, but I can cope with that. I'm rebuilding, refortifying, patching the few cracks in the stonework. I've started healing, and every day that passes I'm a little stronger, I'm a little more stable, I can breathe on my own better. These, also, are not small things. And they're worth the effort to regain them. This may run the risk of being accused of egotism, but I am worth the effort to regain them.

Because my ultimate truth is--this does not kill me. Not even close. I'm not dead yet, and it's far past time to figure out what's next.

(Pictures taken at Route 6 in Athetis, Brewed Awakening, the TF Mainstore in Rivera, Nova Theatre, The Grey Gull, and Ash Falls. Lyrics from Gavin DeGraw's Not Over You.)