but now it's gone, they say it doesn't matter anymore

(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 16th of July, with an additional note added once the entry on the 21st was published.)

(Additional insert from the Editrix: Something to remember.)

Oh, I probably still have a handful of these left in me, but as I mentioned, they're going to become more scattershot, and they have. When reflection hits, I'll put one together and try to organize my thoughts enough to figure out my thinking. But I doubt there's any more bombshell revelations to be had; the last one posted on the 21st, I think that's where it's going to stay.



I took my love, I took it down
I climbed a mountain and I turned around
and I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
'til the landslide brought me down

Still, reflection hit today. While I value melancholy, I do not, oddly enough, consider myself primarily melancholic. (There's a hefty scoop of morbidity in my makeup, but that's different.) But, these days, drifting melancholy is becoming fairly constant. It's not eating holes in me yet, so I'm...basically...fine.



oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
can the child within my heart rise above?

No.

That wasn't an answer to the question, that was an answer to the lighthouse. As far as that goes, we hold all ages within us. Only the people who forget they ever had a childhood believe they don't, and frankly, they have more problems than dealing with emotions on a childlike level. Because that's really what it comes down to, and children are surprisingly honest until they're taught not to be so. What they feel, for the most part, they feel completely, intensely, with a total focus as well as total abandon.

It's only as adults that we practice repression of emotion, practice channeling what we feel away from others and off our faces. Or maybe that's just me.



can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
can I handle the seasons of my life?

That is ever the question. And I'm still searching for the answer. Sitting in various places around the grid, though, is helping me with perspective, at least.



well, I've been afraid of changing
'cause I've built my life around you
but time makes you bolder
even children get older
and I'm getting older too

I said no.

I don't build my life around people anymore. I used to--I still function largely with the trope of supports, be they barnacle-encrusted wooden pilings or flying buttresses of dark stone--but I no longer completely center people as the sole focus point (or in my case, group of focus points). Because it's almost not survivable when they leave.

Now, things are far from that dramatic now, and even that bare handful of times it happened before, I was long past the searching for knives stage. But it did hurt. It hurt deeply. Supports fractured, walls shattered, at least twice my entire personality broke apart, and I had to reconstruct from scratch. (Not my favorite thing, 1/10 would not recommend.)



oh, take my love, take it down
oh, climb a mountain and turn around
and if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills
well, the landslide will bring it down

...Linden lands are strange.

But see? I'm not wrong. Sometimes pianos just fall out of the sky in places. Never stop watching the skies. One could be up there, just waiting for the right moment...anywhere.

I've had far too many pianos fall on me.



and if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills
well, the landslide will bring it down, oh oh
the landslide will bring it down

I said no.

Seriously, what? What is it? Is this just leftover poking, or did I manage to somehow miss something else huge again? I can't take much more in the nature of revelation, I really can't; I'm at my limit as it is.

And I am not breaking things further down this weekend, not after they've finally started to settle. No. Point your light somewhere else, I'm not looking.

(Pictures taken at Luzon, Momenti Rubati, Ravennhart, the Temple of Iris, Waterhead and the L-Shaped Lake. Lyrics are from Fleetwood Mac's Landslide.)