feeling twenty-two, acting seventeen

(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 was written on the 28th of July, using pictures taken on the 26th, and...it's the last full picture run I took. This may be the last of the cycle.)



it's what you do, it's what you see
I know if I'm haunting you, you must be haunting me

The one thing I do not doubt is that I'm thought of. The one thing I know for a surety is I hold him in mind--along with my dominant, along with my RL loves, along with the wandering Duke. My head may be constrained by blood and bone, but my heart has always been bigger on the inside. There's room.



it's where we go, it's where we'll be
I know if I'm onto you, I'm onto you
onto you, you must be on to me

Was it just that I had a specific goal for this set? I wanted dieselpunk, or its nearest equivalent, and while I didn't exactly find everything I was looking for, I found enough. And for once, the quiet streets, the empty houses didn't bother me. Things are by no means peaceful at this point, but...some of the screaming has died down.



my haunted lungs, ghost in the sheets
I know if I'm onto you, you must be haunting me
my wicked tongue, where will it be?
I know if I'm onto you, I'm on to you
onto you, I'm onto you
onto you, you must be on to me

Can I make peace with something I don't want to make peace with? If it's important, if it's required, I can, and I will. I will find a way. Will it be yet another regret on the unsteady pile? Oh, yes, very much yes. But I have so many already, what's one more?



you want me? I walk down the hallway
you like it? The bedroom's my runway
slap me! I'm pinned to the doorway
kiss, bite, foreplay

Finding the Black Sun Tabernacle's sim marks the second place I found I intend to visit again. The Deathlands I've already returned to once, but it's that feel of desolation, of abandonment of the old, forging of the new, that draws me there. Black Sun is...different. And it may not end up being more than an occasional visiting spot; in these charged times, any link to Nazi symbolism is something to be wary of, but...nothing I saw loudly proclaimed alt-right, fascist, or even, necessarily, Germanic belief sets, so...I will keep my guard up, but I will visit again.

And it is most definitely an Adult sim, with a very specific angle, and it is not an angle I've ever had. (Outside of one brief tryst in Lumindor when the new-born succubus emerged with a lass, and I discovered apparently the succubus was fertile...)

(Which, in less RP terms, was the absolute last time I played with organic attachments that more naturally belong to other genders, because that whole ensuing melodramatic pregnancy scenario? Nightmarish start to finish.)



my haunted lungs, ghost in the sheets
I know if I'm haunting you, you must be haunting me
my wicked tongue, where will it be?
I know if I'm onto you, you must be onto me

If nothing else, it's a very pretty spot to sit by the sea, or to drink a glass of wine while perusing the news. I could see returning for that alone, at least until the Nazi angle is discovered, or decried.



it's what we see
I know if I'm haunting you, you must be haunting me
it's where we go, it's where we'll be
I know if I'm onto you, I'm onto you

And maybe there's nohwere left to go. Maybe the decision is what it's always been. Maybe it's not. Either way...I'm declaring an end to obsessing, at least for now. It may not get better, but at least it won't get worse.



onto you, I'm onto you
onto you, you must be onto me

I won't lie, there are times I miss my brief stint in Babbage, too, but it's never called to me as strongly as Caledon. Or Winterfell-turned-Rosehaven. But there is something absolutely unique about Babbage's mix of heavy iron and ethereal fog, and even in the places where there is more light, more life, this is what I think of when I think of Babbage: the overcast docks, still but for the sound of washing waves, and distant ships' bells as they move ponderously down the coast.



on to you, I'm on to you
on to you, I'm on to you

But, now we're here. Over a month of analysis. A lot of kilometers covered on the grid. A lot of heartache, a lot of confusion, some few tears. Some nightmares turned dreams. But along the way, good things happened too: work picked back up in a good way. The wandering Duke returned, and while he may not bring Armada back, or Gearhaven, due to (if nothing else) the current ban on region sales through the Lab, something else may happen.

Some fences were mended. Many discussions were had. That other heart bought me a horse, and...I won't lie, I never thought of myself as part of the riding set, but...it's really fun. Far more fun than it has a right to be.

And while I've said I've started to heal before, there was always a chance the bandages would tear, the stitches would rip, and some did. But now, I think, there's been enough recovery that I can honestly say--I may still be bruised, I may still be hurting, but I'm not actively bleeding out from another soul wound. That's not nothing.

And even the dreams are more comfort than agony and yearning, and...that's not nothing, either.

I can work with this. I've had less to work with as a restarting point. From here, at least, I can still see support, I can still see affection, I can still see I'm not alone. And sometimes...that's really all we need.

(Pictures were taken at Cassandra City, Black Sun Tabernacle, the 1920s Berlin Project, the Theriomorph Emancipation Association on the Babbage Canals, the Trocadero Club and Carmen's Art Deco Ballroom. Lyrics from Beyonce's Haunted.)