I'm aggressive, regressive, the past is over

Yeah, it's gonna go there eventually, warning you now.

But it started with a conversation about dreams while we were dancing on the back lawn of the Chelsea Hotel.

[15:03] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Guys, I once dreamt of my mitochondria protesting to break free from my organelles , claiming that nature has enslaved them !

Yes, I am leaving him un-anonymized. Why? Because of what he says later.

[15:03] axxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: hi [mxxxx]! howzit?
[15:03] Exxxxxxxxx Vxxxxxx: hes a good entzertainer
[15:03] txxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: Hey [Mxxxx]
[15:03] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: You mean the first of a million woodstocks

Because ostensibly, this was the Chelsea Hotel's anniversary tribute to Woodstock.

[15:03] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx shouts: Hey [Mxxxx]! woot!
[15:04] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: youre on time for this woodstock
[15:04] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ha
[15:04] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: HI [Mxxxx]
[15:04] Ex Exxxxxx: THE MAN WITHOUT WHOM NONE OF THIS WOULD EXIST... [Mxxxx] SKALL EVERYONE!
[15:04] Ex Exxxxxx: .-'`'-. APPLAUSE APPLAUSE .-'`'-.
[15:04] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): On another night of a full moon, I dreamt of Professor Noam Chomsky eating books and regurgitating the field of Modern Linguistics!

Most of us were just ignoring him for the most part, concentrating on the music.

[15:04] Ex Exxxxxx: Hiya [Sxxxx]!.. mwah!
[15:05] Rxxxx Mxxxxx: hi [Sxxxx], hugss mwahh
[15:05] Rxxxx Mxxxxx: sorry I stepped on your head
[15:05] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): The funniest dream I ever had, was when I had a vision of a Neanderthal swallowing a whole apple, and it played ping-pong with his heart while passing down his oesophagus!
[15:05] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: that is a great dream!
[15:06] Cxxxxxxxxx Hxxxxxxx: yikes
[15:06] Cxxxxxxxxx Hxxxxxxx: lol
[15:06] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): [Sxxxx], the most disgusting dream I ever had, was of a female's menstruation blood turning into jelly and been marketed by an Oompa Loompa as Halloween treats!

And...dude. You have issues.

[15:06] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: wow, man.
[15:06] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: If that first one was an animated short I bet you'd be up for an Academy.
[15:06] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: isnt dream therapy night on Thursday at el quijote
[15:06] Cxxxxxxxxx Hxxxxxxx: yikes
[15:06] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: But not the second, no, not the second one...
[15:07] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: no, no, just no...
[15:07] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Do you guys think my dreams have any philosophical implications at all?
[15:07] Cxxxxxxxxx Hxxxxxxx: no none

Psychological implications, sure. Philosophical ones? Not usually.

[15:07] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: hahaha
[15:07] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: that was quick...
[15:07] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): [Cxxxxxxxxx], I'm just a little concerned that I'm having a neurological malfunction!

From later conversation, no, seems like he's like this all the time.

[15:08] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: welcome to SL huh?
[15:08] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: join the club , sir
[15:08] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Given that I've heard my neurons conspiring to abandon the dwelling of my skull, things don't seem to be heading in the right direction, ever-since!

My advice: let them escape. Might make for less abhorrent conversation.

[15:08] bxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: yes, women's anything should treated like candy
[15:09] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Not that disgusting blood though!

You're really tipping your hand here, Knight. So is it a phobia? A religious spasm? You just haven't dated any girls yet?

[15:09] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: Remember! Your not officially crazy untill you go...
[15:09] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: BLITALITALITALITALITALITA!!!!!!!!!
[15:09] bxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: sacred!
[15:09] Ex Exxxxxx: Arabian, does that horse dance?
[15:09] Ex Exxxxxx feeds a brownie to the horse
[15:09] sxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: *Chuckles like a chipmunk* [Jxxx]
[15:09] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): You guys seem very interesting, do you all mind if I peek into your profiles to conduct my psychoanalytical rituals?

"Psychoanalytical rituals"? So not just weirdly phobic about womens' anatomy, but also delusions of grandeur?

[15:10] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: (the draggon is a hallucination, she tells herself. but I didnt eat the acid yet, she thinks again)
[15:10] Ex Exxxxxx: me thinks the lady doth thinknn too much... lol
[15:10] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx:
[15:10] axxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ya gota know who you doin...
[15:10] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: hi [Axxxxx] - Welcome!!!
[15:11] Ex Exxxxxx: [Jxxx], thanks for coming!
[15:11] Axxxxx Jxxxxx: Hey [Sxxxx]!
[15:11] Ex Exxxxxx: .-'`'-. APPLAUSE APPLAUSE .-'`'-.
[15:11] axxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: \o\ A P P L A U S E /o/
[15:11] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: Oº°‘¨APLAUSE 🎸 🎶 º°"˜`˜
[15:11] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: dang!!!

There's going to be more bursts of applause--this was when the live performer on stage during this finished a song. So I'm editing out most of them when it happens.

[15:11] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: WOOT!!!
[15:11] Rxxxxxx Axxxxx: trippy
[15:12] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: hooo
[15:12] sxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ♪♫♥ Applauds!!! ♥♫♪
[15:12] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: sweet!!!! woot!!!
[15:12] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: [Bxxxx]! Glad you're here!!!
[15:13] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Profile checks done, analysis completed successfully.
[15:13] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Are you all ready for my verdict on you?

Is that a trick question?

[15:14] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): You're going to judge us?
[15:14] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Well, as an esteemed "myrmecologist of ants", I can see that none of you shares the characteristics of one that is plagued by "socio-repellent pheromones".

Redundant. Knight's essentially saying here he's an ant scientist of ants. He could have just said "myrmecologist" and stopped.

Also, on reading this over again to post, I'm fairly sure he's saying he's the advanced life form, and we're just lowly insects scrabbling blindly at his feet.

[15:14] Wxxxxx Cxxxx: Everyone is judging everybody all the time, so why not do it out loud?
[15:14] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) grins
[15:15] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): No, I do not seem to possess social-repellent pheromones
[15:15] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Emilly, you all seem to be well-rounded and approachable individuals. That is what I was trying to convey.
[15:15] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Woo!
[15:15] Ex Exxxxxx decides this is waaaaay too heavy.. takes another long toke...
[15:15] Dxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: yay!
[15:15] Wxxxxx Cxxxx: My pheromones seem to actually attract certain male members of the population
[15:15] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: LOLOLOL
[15:15] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Hey, [Exxxx], sometimes, y'know, things just get heavy. It's cool.
[15:15] bxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: chillin' and thrillin', dancin' too
[15:16] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: yes were the pinnnacle of sl sanity the Hotel Chelsea wwweee woo waaaa
[15:16] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: LOL
[15:16] Ex Exxxxxx sooooooaaars
[15:16] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Guys, for your info: I run a virtual school, teaching "psychological manipulation". All my slaves / students testify to the quality of the content I deliver. If you'd like to be part of my following, please submit a formal request.

And there was the sales pitch: "Hey, baby, wanna come over to my place and I'll teach you Scientology? But on your knees, natch. 'Cos that's more fun."

[15:16] Rhi Milena (rhian.milena): laughs, always being judge, to tall, shapeless and #1 BIIATCH
[15:16] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: lol
[15:16] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: That is so new york uptown
[15:16] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) giggles. "All my slaves/students", there's an SL description for you

It really is.

[15:16] Wxxxxx Cxxxx: Do you have a course on discourse manipulation, Mr. Knight? I would attend that!
[15:17] Wxxxxx Cxxxx: horses [a**]?
[15:17] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: application for mind[f**k]? ya
[15:17] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: welcome to trump tower
[15:17] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: hehe
[15:17] Ex Exxxxxx: hehehe.. high fives [Cxxxxxxxxx]
[15:17] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Yes, [Lxxxxx], and there are no prerequisites for signing up, I just demand that you have a good grasp of the art of linguistics and be acquainted with the workings of the pre-frontal cortex.

Gotta have standards, I guess.

[15:17] sxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: *Chuckles like a chipmunk*
[15:17] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Working brains are important
[15:17] sxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ***** APPPPPPPLLLLAAAUUUSSSSEEEEEEE***********
[15:17] Ex Exxxxxx: rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy
[15:17] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ♫♫♫♫ APPLAUSE ♫♫ APPLAUSE ♫♫♫♫

Another skip of applauding.

[15:17] bxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: woot! woot! you be killin'
[15:18] sxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ♪♫♥ Applauds!!! ♥♫♪
[15:18] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: I'd Rather Have a Bottle in Front of Me (Than a Frontal Lobotomy)
[15:18] Ex Exxxxxx feeds the horse another brownie

More applause, then...

[15:18] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: what about that dragon [exxx]
[15:18] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Guys, forget music, I make use of telepathy, based on my own self-constructed Quantum Entanglement methodologies, to read the minds of the feeble-ones. You are going to be taught quite a lot of skills!

You're saying this at a live concert, you realize. Not a lot of sympathy for that opinion in the current crowd.

[15:18] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Getting the horse high? Oh, dear.
[15:18] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Okay then
[15:18] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: high as a horse
[15:18] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ya
[15:19] bxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: lol Emily
[15:19] Wxxxxx Cxxxx sings "I can read your mind..."
[15:19] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): I'm here to extend the wisdom of the otherworldly realms unto you. If you wish to be enlightened by the metaphysical forces, be my disciple.

No thanks. I'll skip it.

[15:19] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Eh, it's not that hard to read my mind
[15:19] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): [Sxxx]!
[15:19] Ex Exxxxxx: What a tail my thoughts could tell...
[15:19] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Hi!
[15:19] Ex Exxxxxx: er... tale.. tale.. not tail..
[15:19] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: heres my craziest friend for your "experiments" Arabian

I wouldn't even recommend his 'classes' to enemies.

[15:19] Dxxxxxv Rxxxxxxx: Welcome [Jxxxxxxx] - and everyone I might have missed - welcome to WOODSTOCK!!!
[15:20] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: [jxxxxx] meet Arabian

Why?

[15:20] Wxxxxx Cxxxx looks up "Wait, how did we get from quantum physics to metaphysics???"

Who knows?

[15:20] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): I have grown up on the mountains of the land of Queen Sheba, the ancient land of Yemen, where the tigers roam. I am well-equipped to deal with the philosophies of all times, past and present. You're guaranteed to be in safe hands!

This is obviously some radically new definition of "safe" that actually means the reverse.

[15:20] Ex Exxxxxx: lol.. [Jxxx] that be one kuwazy mofo
[15:21] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Greetings menstruating-creature ([Jxxxxx]), you're in the presence of the manipulative Knight!

So, swelled ego and an obsession with menstruation, got it.

Also "menstruating-creature" is such a weird way to speak to a woman.

[15:22] Nxxxxx Wxxx wonders if Arabian Knight grew from the horse or Vica Versa

Beginning to wonder that myself. Or if the horse part is in front and Arabian's the rear section.

[15:22] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): [Dxxxx], I think you are attempting an intellectual rebellion in my presence! I will not tolerate this!
[15:23] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): I intend to destroy all forms of delusion, and obliterate all oligarchical structures!

Sure you do.

At this point, Ms. E turned on the rain system--directly over Arabian.

[15:23] axxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx giggles
[15:23] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: OH No Rain?
[15:23] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ohno already
[15:24] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: there it is!!!
[15:24] Ex Exxxxxx: ooooNooooooo!!!!
[15:24] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Alright, it is now time for the "admissions questions", if you all answer correctly, you shall be granted free access to my "School of Psychological Manipulation".

No thanks.

[15:24] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Be ready please, pens on paper!
[15:24] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) snerks

He's not serious...right?

[15:24] bxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: splish splash!!!!!
[15:25] Rxxxxxx Axxxxx: rain is me [exxxx]
[15:25] Ex Exxxxxx: you're all wet, Knight.. :)

Another patch of applause for the singer...

[15:25] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Question NO.1 : why is it that we never see people suffering from "severe mental retardation" claiming to be gay? Is "sexual identity" just a by-product of social conditioning? Perhaps it is nothing more than a psychological phenomenon?

Have you all been brainwashed (without soap) and socially conditioned to adopt a “sexual identity”?

Yeah. That was his first question.

[15:25] kxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: hi [Oxxxxx] - Welcome!!!
[15:25] Rxxxx Mxxxxx: hey [O], hugss hon
[15:25] bxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx sheds a feather...
[15:25] Rxxxx Mxxxxx: brb
[15:26] Exxxxxxxxx Vxxxxxx: woot
[15:26] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): So the first question is rigged, because we do...

Because "severe mental retardation" has no effect on attraction. We're attracted to who we're attracted to, that's just simple human nature.

[15:26] Oxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: hello everyoneeeeeeeee
[15:26] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: sea of endless avis
[15:26] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): But gender is a social construct, yes.

Because again, it is. This was supposed to be a hard question?

[15:26] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: circular arguement! spins in a circle O
[15:26] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): So you are all brainwashed (without soap)?

What does that mean, anyway? Brainwashed without soap?

[15:27] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: i use PSYCHE soap. myself
[15:27] txxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: hi [Txxxx] - Welcome and [Cxxxxx]!
[15:27] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Well, I prefer to think of it as generally washed
[15:27] Cxxxxx Axxxx: Hey Emily
[15:27] Cxxxxx Axxxx: Hi [Sxxxx].
[15:27] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Hello [Cxxxxx]!
[15:27] Cxxxxx Axxxx: Hey [Exxxx]
[15:27] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Question NO.2 : do you know that males can breastfeed using their breasts with little modification at all? All it takes is a raise in a hormone called "Prolactin" which can occur naturally without medical intervention!

So why do men find women's breasts arousing when they technically have the same feature?
[15:28] Cxxxxxxxxx Hxxxxxxx: [f**k] off

So say we all.

[15:28] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: oh boy
[15:28] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: no rain no rain
[15:28] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): Question NO.3 did you know that we all start as females in the womb, for the first 2 weeks during development the fetus is nothing more than a female body-shell without hormones. It is only after the appearance of hormones that the fetus changes gender to male (if it has the YX Chromosome present), and that is why men have what looks like a "stitching" on their genitals, this is due to the infusion of the female parts they once had!

This is not a question, it's a statement.

[15:28] Nxxxxx Wxxx: yep... he grew from the saddle.... the horse rules
[15:28] Cxxxxx Axxxx: Hey [Dxxxx]
[15:29] Nxxxxx Wxxx: Hi [Cxxxxx]

More applause, then--

[15:29] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Question 2, the first answer is yes, obviously, and the second answer is just very obvious in cultures that oversexualize based on gender. Not so much in cultures that don't.

More applause.

[15:29] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Are you going to ask any actual questions, Knight, or is this some sort of mental masturbation exercise?
[15:29] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: oh crap
[15:30] jxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: wheres my umbrella dang
[15:30] axxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx giggles
[15:31] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Question number 3 is not a question. Also duh.
[15:31] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Come on now. Step up your game.

Then he IMed me.

[15:32] Arabian Knight (arabianknight01): I have a theory in regards to the psychology of women; basically, in my view, the whole psychology of women is governed by the menstrual cycle (i.e. period). All women's feelings, thoughts, and patterns of behavior are first and foremost nothing but a byproduct of a subconscious psycho-physiological "struggle" ; for example(s), women think that blood is a substance that is unclean and unattractive, and so they try to "make-up" and beautify themselves to attract the opposite gender to mate with them. Also, women think that blood (in its essence) is a substance that embodies harsh concepts (such as death), and that is why they tend to act "soft and loving" to offset such an apparent contradiction between their "supposed beauty" and the otherwise gruesome concepts relating to blood. Moreover, women think that bleeding reflects a deficiency, and that is why they are generally insecure, and as a result, don't see themselves as capable beings worthy of engaging in societal affairs, so they tend to be submissive!

There is just so much to unpack here, all of it demonstrating a deeply flawed understanding of women, biology, culture, society, and submission.

[15:33] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) cackles
[15:33] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Cute theory. Wrong, but cute.
[15:36] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Do you always talk condescendingly to women, or is it just me?

Because, wau. Way to make me both very amused and homicidal all at once, congratulations.

Thankfully, he stopped responding, and disappeared soon after, so with any luck, one of the Chelsea staff bounced him to the curb. It is devoutly to be hoped, at any rate.

But, considering the man's looking for "slaves/students", openly admits to misogynistic ideas about women, seems to have some sort of phobic response to natural body processes, and claims to be a master of psychological manipulation? This to me says "dangerous", so...consider this blog entry my warning to the women of SL. Don't go near him.

can't call it a problem if I never let a play drop

Information from Shakeno Tomsen:

Stop. Using. PNG. or. 32-bit TGA. For. Opaque. Textures.

Why? Most people don't see it but SL has an automatically enabled option to convert ALL these textures into alpha masks, and it SHOULD be disabled. It makes content creation a hassle because you can't choose what should be alpha blending and what should be alpha mask if it is on, requiring you to use workaround features for it...
...BUT: Disabling this feature will probably cause a lot of objects go into an alpha sorting trainwreck in your client. That is because said textures were uploaded with an unnecessary 32-bit/transparency layer that SHOULDN'T BE THERE, and now it doesn't attempt to fix it automatically, showing what the textures truly are like.

To solve this, please upload your opaque textures as 24-bit TGA and disable the option "Render alpha masks when 'Advanced Lighting Model' is enabled/not enabled". Not only they will be correct in a visual manner, they will also require less data to download and process.

Thank you sincerely.

Now I need to figure out which textures I've uploaded that I want to go through the hassle of this...

And this from a random profile that I found relevant:

Safewords are valid in SL because it is psychological and emotional space we are trying to achieve and a relationship we are trying to preserve. And because of RLV. Surrender is surrender and it is vulnerable.

Green: Go Sir! Goooooo! I love this!

Yellow: Slow down Sir...let's figure this out I'll hint gently. And maybe you have the right idea in the first place, but let's negotiate softly.

Red: Instant stop. I guarantee I will leave BDSM forever if I violate a redlight, a RED. Safewords can save lives. No longer Sir....I'm coming to the rescue.

Tapping out/Snapping: During gagging, or combinations. It means the gag comes off.

Use your safewords, they can even protect a friendship. Safewords between trusted friends can prevent misunderstandings.

BDSM is to develop trust, intimacy, and provide an avenue of utter surrender, as well as foster greater self control.

He's not wrong.

Next, why I got rid of STATIC's Nightmariner's Lantern (at least for now):



Because it REFUSES to stop launching itself into midair and spinning like a mad dervish!



It makes no sense to me.



Seriously, every time I rez one out, it goes COMPLETELY mental.

And now, some random cat pics to round this out.



What is the fascination with staring at walls? Can someone answer that for me?



Because I don't get it.

and I know, and I know, and I know just how this ends (part XV, and end)

(This turns out to be the last in the series.)

Feb 22, 2021, 7:17 PM

[given name], former master, distant love, inconstant ache.

In the last six years my life has changed a great deal. So...let's go into some of those. Not that you're reading these, but...something in me still says, write, on occasion. This is the last time i will.

I'm collared to a man named Matthias now. Of morbid amusement, since the rise of COVID, things have gone off the rails with him too. But before that, I was his, absolutely, with the exception of clients I took through Sakura. I'm still working at Sakura.

[I] is off and on these days. He voted for Trump, and...I can't get past that, especially with the insurrection Trump and others fomented against his own government, and members of his own party, this last January 6th. So..we don't talk a lot these days.

[F] and I barely talk, these days. What little we had, limping along, finally died, and I was the one to declare an end to things. I walked away; he still would like me to reconsider. It's made remaining friends difficult, for all that I still care. Maybe the fact I still care is part of what's difficult.

I met a man about a year after Matthias, named [E]. He has a lovely spitfire wife named [T]. They're marvelous, and marvelously sensual, and good friends, and we make the time we can to spend time together.

I met a blue-spotted cat named Hiro. Therein followed an extremely tangled thread of interrelations, confusions, mistakes and misunderstandings, and in the middle of everything (for reasons not concerning me), he stormed off the grid and left me alone for three years. I actually met him, and started falling for him, before I met Matthias. I accepted Matthias as a lover, and as my dominant, a year after *serious* conversation on what that collar would mean for both of us, but I, at least, know that--at least at first--I accepted at the end of that year of conversations because Hiro was gone.

Hiro recently came back, and proposed, and...I said yes. And it's been a tightrope walk ever since. But...if it is the most difficult balancing act of my life, it's also one of the most rewarding experiences, and I do not regret accepting his offer to partner in the least.

He met a lovely lady named Justine, and she is a bright shining supernova hiding a core of fractured insecurity. Sometimes the insecurity overwhelms. Sometimes she acts out just to get negative attention from either of us, and it drives me bats. But she's a joy, and so talented, and I watch people wander into her orbit and remain, fascinated. And I entirely get why--she has an orbital pull all her own. And I adore her.

I started following the work of a spoken-word poet and live performer named [R]. We're becoming close. I have spent a great deal of time trying to quit the whole falling-in-love-with-everyone game, because he'd be very easy to love, and recently...I decided that for good or ill, I was at least going to admit it. He's not running away so far.

And I suppose the final acquisition is a man named [M]. Older than I am, and presenting so in world, with white hair, and wrinkles, and...I love him more sweepingly than I thought I ever would. He is...caring, and funny, and wry, and warm, and a fantastic dancer, and willing to listen to anything I say without judgement, and willing to work around everyone else in my life. And he accepts everything in me--the scars, the successes, the fragility and the surety, and in world, the various avatars that go with them, from my 'human' face to the wee little Kemono demicat. I may keep some things close to the chest just to remain a discrete being, if nothing else, with everyone--but I know to my marrow that there is no face, no change, no mood, no pain, no rage he doesn't see and accept. That's a treasure beyond words.

He reminds me a lot of you, actually. You without the soul wounds.

I am...still wounded, myself. I may always be. I've done a lot of healing, and a lot of processing, and on the other end of things I look at a life that is an odd whirl of social engagements, otherloves, and terraforming--because, of course, Hiro is the Duke of Gearhaven, and the Lindens *finally* reopened the land store since he emerged onto the grid, so we *finally* have the sim of Gearhaven, and the Dark Sea next door, and we're building it up again. We'd been on one of Anshe Chung's rental sims, Oceanpoint, but...it's ruinously costish.

And yes, there is still some small, traitor part of me that wishes you'd return, but there's far more of me that just wishes you well, and living, and hopefully happy, and staying far far away, because...the breaking of faith was too extreme, my once-love. Too extreme by far. At this point, I'm glad you're alive, or at least were when I spoke to your machine that last time, but I'm happier never seeing you again.

But that's my life now. Mostly, I'm content. On more occasions than I expected, I'm even happy. I am loved and I love, and there are many threads in my tapestry that bind me close to the world, and to others, and I am many threads through the fabric of others' lives. I am no longer pinioned on the high mountain, even in thought. I'm still with the girls, not that I ever expected not to be. And COVID has caused great and terrifying fear, because...I had weakened lungs to begin with, and I am now very nearly agoraphobic about leaving the house. But I have a lovely set of masks to go out in, at the least. I have one with chibi cryptids on it, one with a pirate map, one with skulls and roses, and my favorite was one I got from Tormented Artifacts, and it says ADAPT OR DIE.

I'm trying. I am trying with every fiber in me, to adapt to new things, to accept change, and to adapt away from the person who needed to be at your feet. Regaining the ability to listen to Poets of the Fall helped, oddly. Discovering a singer who goes by LP helped also. (This may remain my favorite song of hers, at least the next few years, as it's already been the favorite song of 2020.) So this will be the last letter I send you, into the void of non-responsiveness.

It won't reach you, but I hope the thought does. I hope you know, somewhere in your embattled, mercurial soul, that someone occasionally thinks fondly of you. Because I still do, on occasion, in spite of everything. I am just no longer, and will never be again,

Yours~

J

And that...is that. That's it. I learned what I needed to. I had the talk with Matthias. We're in a better place, though the ground's still a bit rocky. And all roads no longer lead back to that missing master. Barring this excoriative excess, I doubt he even crosses my mind more than once every six weeks or so (when I'm not editing and posting things referring to him), so...it's starting to fade. Another decade, I may not even remember his name.

And that will be something of a bittersweet day, too, but on the other hand...all he had to do was talk to me. All he had to do. I've been here. I haven't moved since I sent him every point of contact I had. We still have the same house phone number that he'd been given.

So...while in the main, while the reason this all happened may have been me, probably was me...the lack of any and all contact? That's on him. And I am no longer taking responsibility for it. Not my fault, not my burden, not my Master, not my job.

I'm moving on, after far too long of standing in this one dark place, reaching out. And for once, you know...that's actually a hopeful thought.



(Though I still don't know what to do with this.



(I don't want to throw it away, because of what it once meant...and I don't want to keep it, because of what it once meant. The one thing I am sure of, is that it no longer watches over me.

(But that's okay. I have others watching over me now.)

wisdom starts to drown, this ship is going down (part XIV)

Didn't find another email/reply in chat, but...found a poem. So this is now where this series ends.

severance

great joy and great depression
interwoven, delicate, persistent
threads of connection binding
me to him. fragile as we go and
so easily broken.

but my heart is an echo chamber
and the only voice I can hear is mine
I walk the jagged pathways to
the place where you lived
and I am finding only dust and memories
tarnished moments I’m trying very hard
not to regret.

and I love you, but I cannot find you
I cannot stand in the empty chamber
you made your own. you said you would
always be there but
you have removed yourself from my view
no trace of your passing I can find and
no mention, no word.

the condensation of your breath
has evaporated so completely even
the glass is gone, so
what am I to do?

I say I choose my own path now
I say your vows broken mean
my obedience is no longer required
I say I have removed your bindings
though the day will come that I will weep again
at laying your collar--something I viewed
as a lifetime commitment--on the floor.

but this is my end
there are still questions, which
may not ever resolve, but
now I take my pain, I take
my confusion, my hurt and anger
the scars I yet bear and
the flame of my love

and I set them aside. love alone
cannot sustain the bound heart
so I take my heart back. by
sea and shore, by sky and stone, I take
myself back.

and if you still live, o my love
I free you also, with
all that can wish you well left in me
but I’m closing the door, o my love
and this time
I will not answer.
~11/29/2012

November, 2012. It's about the right time. And this may actually be the 'goodbye letter' I sent him. If not, I used words from this in it, because it--especially the last two stanzas--rings with a sense of familiarity that goes beyond the fact I wrote it.

So. That, I think, is truly that, for now.

(Except...no, there's still one last one to come.)

and I won't lay down, there's a darker shade of courage (part XIII)

(Continued from part XII.)

A longer one, again. Two years have passed at this point.

Nov 28, 2015, 11:51 AM

[given name],

Still breathing. Occasionally wondering why. I think it's more habit than desire at this point.

In the writing of the...whatever it is...I've been doing this November, I've been trying to cull from all sources to track down things. Conversations we've had, notes both in and out of world, fragments of thought in all the places I have to store them. I haven't worked through physical notebooks; not sure I'm going to, because there's more than enough words to evaluate and transcribe from email, iPod and notes saved on the comp.

Anyway, I found a more exhaustive transcription of the September incident, and thought I'd toss it in here. Again, no idea why, other than it's become habit to write to you.

Shadow man. Missing Master. Shadowmancer, High Priest of the Hourglass. I'm amusing my brain coming up with alternate titles for you, when before, 'love' or your name were more than enough. There's a morbid humor there, somewhere, or maybe it's just me.

Anyway, the note. It's from another note on the iPod, dated July 23, 2012:

"It's a quarter to two and I've been seen for my somewhat yearly mammogram. The breast health center moved from an overly pink office, suffused with ruffles and quilting, to a more neutral structure, all exposed beams and copper-cast, oversized gingko leaves.

"I have about an hour to kill and--sitting outside of the hospital--every excuse assumed if I don't get through this without tears.

"So. Day before yesterday, around five in the morning, I decided to stop staring out the window sleeplessly and I started writing on the iPod, the way I'm doing now. I came about as close as I've ever come to a straight goodbye letter--at least, when the goal is to say anything but goodbye.

"As one might imagine, this left me emotionally unsteady, but after spending some time watering the pillow with silent tears, I thought I'd regained some measure of control, and finally fell asleep.

"The next day, all I wanted--ALL I wanted--was to take some in-game pics of an ongoing charity event. Unbeknownst to me, one of my computer case fans was on its last legs. Added to this was the fact that I'm having animation caching issues which were frustrating enough on their own to deal with.

"I overslept, which meant I woke up with the perception I was already late on things. A friend of mine, far more technically savvy than I am, was trying to analyze why the animations weren't working for me. I'd spent the first hour being awake in stripping down an extra AO device and packing it with static (AKA, unmoving) animations to make it easier to take pictures.

"Then the fan cut out. My mouse froze on the screen and nothing would get it moving again. Finally, I hard-crashed the computer, breathed for a bit, then tried to start the computer again.

"And nothing. Oh, it started fine, but when it hit the verification screen after the BIOS, it wouldn't load.

"And I...just dissolved. No amount of coping strategies stopped me crying, and I was simultaneously hurt, angry and afraid. And the one thing my brain seized on to make it better was cutting.

"Now, for anyone who doesn't know the story--or hasn't seen the pictures. because I'm not sure I'm just going to send it to you--in September of 2002, we were in a situation where we had given notice to move on our place, and suddenly had no money to move. As it turned out, we spent the last three weeks in Spokane surfing various friends' couches, feeling like we were leeches on our friends' generosity, but at that time, in September, we had no idea where we were going, and both Cat and I were under a crashing burden of stress.

"Another step back--since I hit puberty, I've off and on used self-mutilation as a way to deal with emotional stress. While this absolutely wasn't helped by the old boyfriend who stubbed cigarettes out on my arms, and my natural propensity to scar from non-self-inflicted wounds, I will say it's been something I've struggled with for decades.

"Back to 2002. Late one night, after yet another argument over money, I was sitting up at the computer and got the strong urge to cut. I sat there for two hours, feeling helpless against this compulsion, and finally decided if I was going to do this, I was by the gods going to make it memorable.

"I found a very sharp kitchen knife and a seam cutter I wouldn't need past that night. I went to the bathroom and got alcohol, gauze, antibiotic ointment and tape. I returned to the kitchen with two more things: a small, blue glass bowl, a lit candle, and a glass of Bombay gin and tonic water over ice.

"For the next two hours, I set to work. Sterilize the skin, make the cuts. Sterilize the skin again, the blade again, breathe through the alcohol's bite, make the cuts. Take a sip of gin, breathe, and sterilize the skin again. Shudder with the pain and do it all again.

"It felt longer, but that was the first hour. When I was finished, I heated the blade edge of the seam ripper, and burned along the cuts, sterilizing and reheating the seam ripper as I went.

"That took the other hour, and I now know how I would smell cooking. When it was all over, I dressed the wound, carefully bandaging it, finished the last inch of gin, and went to bed.

"For the next ten years, this has worked as a deterrent. When I've really wanted to cut, I think of how branding myself felt, and I don't. Sometimes I actually have to reach up, and trace the marks, but...it's enough, and I don't.

"So. Yesterday. Sent what my mind is thinking as the Goodbye Letter, without ever actually using that word. Feeling an inordinate pressure to cover Hair Fair, even though logging onto SL makes me depressed and jittery just logging in. More than a month of having my eyes blur, trying to take pictures through flawed, stuttering animations on my virtual self.

"And at least three months, if not four at this point, of absolutely zero contact from that oh-so-distant love.

"And my computer dies and won't work. And I absolutely dissolved.

"And I wanted to cut. I even planned out where: a six-inch vertical slice down my right thigh. Thinking of the brand didn't stop me. Thinking of promises I made, to both myself and that distant love, didn't stop me.

"Somehow, somehow, I held to a state of teary, shuddery stasis, and went so far as to pick out a knife and walk around carrying it. I wracked my brain for any excuse to stop what I wanted to do.

"Standing in the kitchen. One hand on the sharpest knife we have. Going over how many gauze pads we have, where I can find paper tape, where I can track down antibiotic ointment. And it hits me: I do this, he wins.

"And I stood there. Thinking. Because [f*ck] him, he doesn't get to win. He doesn't get to break me because I'm too weak without him not to pick up old habits.

"And this week, especially. Today, annual mammogram. Tomorrow, food bank run. Wednesday, labs and bloodwork to see if all the stress of the last month has kicked my thyroid to the curb again. (Personal opinion: I think it has.)

"Then Thursday, Cat leaves for physical therapy. And she'll be gone at least a week, but all of us are suspecting at least a month away from us.

"I put the knife away. I dug around our limited stores of alcohol and resigned myself to a shot of Amaretto, because we have no rum or gin. I forced myself to make a salad, and grimly ate it while watching SVU episodes for the second season of the show. And I didn't stop crying for two hours.

"But there's no cut on my thigh. Granted, on occasion I'm tracing where it would have been with my thumbnail, but I'm not pressing hard enough even to scratch. The girls got home and they brought me coffee ice cream. The bad fan on the comp got changed, I downloaded new drivers for the video card, and spent time with old and new friends watching Spoony's latest Ultima review, and running around in City of Heroes.

"And I will count this down hour by hour if I have to, but I'm not giving in.

"But I'm back to fragile and insecure. And honestly, if this is what everyone else feels when they hurt, I'm wondering why in the hell I fought this hard to feel."

Again, not that you're reading these, but the beginning of this thread still mentions summer, and we are far from summer's balms. So I'm tying it up here, I'll start a new thread to not talk to you in.

[Em]

I'm stopping it here for a while. Not only because of the glut of revelation in this one, which I'm still going to end up publishing, because I'm me, but also, because these were just the ones that turned up on a search for first "poet" and then "others". It's a good general overview, and I think that's enough. For now.

No--one last bit, because I wanted to track down if I'd saved whatever I was considering as the final 'goodbye letter', and...I can't seem to find it. There seems to be a large gap of July 2012 missives, and I may have deleted it. But I found this, after finally making the call that went to his machine:

Sat, Nov 21, 2015, 2:28 AM

I know you're alive now.

And I still love you.

You're a goddamned idiot.

But I still do.

[Em]

And that is all of that.

(Written to OK Go's "Here It Goes Again" on repeat because I needed something more upbeat than memory.)

(And actually...there is one more.)

I've waited here for you forever (part XII)

"I come in peace. I didn't bring artillery. But I'm pleading with you, with tears in my eyes: if you [f**k] with me I'll kill you all."
~~Marine General James Mattis

(Continued from part XI.)

Another.

Sun, Oct 28, 2012, 7:11 PM

because there's just...no point anymore, is there?

I got turned down for disability. The medical doctor turned in three potential jobs I could do--all of them required lifting, standing, and/or kneeling to do the work, and one of them was seasonal only. The judge also didn't consider any medical findings earlier than 2004.

So...it's a no. I'm not sure if I'm going to challenge for a second appeal. I'm so tired of fighting.

And I don't know where you are. Where you went. And I'm tired of that too.

I still love you, but thinking of you depresses the hell out of me. I ran out of any resource I can think of last night, trying to track down [country]'s obituaries. I literally don't know what to do at this point.

[Em]

Another.

After several months of waiting, I've now had my first appointment with a rehab physician--he took an exhaustive medical history, poked in just about every painful area I have, and walked me out with a steroid injection in my left knee, a prescription for Voltaren (which my insurance likely won't cover), and a new type of non-opiate painkiller (which my insurance likely will). I'm to come in towards the end of December for a follow-up, and in the first or second week of January for a nerve induction test on my wrists.

I don't know why I'm telling you this. You're not there. You're dead or amnesiac or uncaring or lobotomized, but you're not THERE.

I don't know if I'll write again.

I may still try to call, but depending on what I find out, when and if I'm able to, I think that's the end of it for me. I'm trying to put myself together again enough to move on. There is a large part of my heart that will always be yours, and right now, I resent that more than a little, but I'll have to cope with that too.

[Em]

Another.

Thu, Mar 21, 2013, 6:21 PM

[given name],

Still miss you. Still don't know why you left. Still waiting for enough free in the budget to buy an international calling card.

I'll make the one call, and depending what I hear, I think that's well and truly the end of all things.

Still love you. But that just makes everything hurt worse.

I hope you're happy, wherever you are. I truly do. I hope you are blissfully happy, or at least content, and not in a coma, or dead, or simply perfidiously ignoring everything I send your way. In any world, with me or not, I'd rather you be alive and happy. And if it has to be without me, then I still know you're alive and happy, and for me, that would be enough.

It's the not knowing, the months of not knowing, that's shredding my heart.

Not yours (though I still want to be); not collared (and that's acid on the soul); and not part of your life anymore,

[Em]

At least one more to come.

(Coded to Daughtry's "Over You".)

if I can't see then I can't find (part XI)

(Continued from part X.)

A longer letter.

Jul 22, 2012, 7:08 AM

My dear one, I've been here in bed staring at the trees outside as the sky slowly lightens. I still have no answers, only more questions. Some nights it's difficult to sleep; other nights it's simply impossible. The only surety in all this confusion is that I love you, but that's starting to feel like silk ribbon on the wind, and I the one left on the ground, watching it braid the air as it drifts away.

The girl's leaving Thursday. I have my next disability hearing September 19th. The girls are hoping for good things, I'm just hoping I get through it without collapsing again.

And I wonder where you are. I wonder, and I worry, and I curse you, then curse myself for lacking faith. I inhale the world through my eyes and want to share it with you, then remember you're not there anymore. I want to share with you my discoveries, my successes, my failures, my finds--and then wonder why I'd bother.

Everything I've done to this point has had the end goal of staying together for you, for when you returned. Going back through old chats, old letters, all the poetry, everything was wrapped around that sole, focused desire.

But as I've said before, love doesn't conquer all. And if I've learned anything from the wreckage of my past, it's that some things, as much as we may wish otherwise, we simply can't recover from.

We're neither of us lucky enough for me to wish you well with a light heart and be on my way. But on the other hand, if you're no longer checking [your email]'s accounts, you've effectively made that decision for us, anyway, haven't you?

I'm not done crying over you, as inconvenient as it is at times. And if you never circle back to me, I will miss you the whole of my life. And I will always wonder why you left.

But you're just one more thing that slipped my grasp, [given name]. Something I've finally realized I seem to be very good at, much as I'd have it not be so. And mine is the task of watching your bright flame of silk wander far beyond my grasp.

And all the yearning I possess isn't enough to bring you back.

I'm not giving up completely, but I think there's less of wisdom, and more of utter stubborn idiocy to the decision.

Thus, I'll write when I have anything of importance to say, or in October. Whichever comes first.

Be well, [given name]. Be happy. Above all, be alive.

[Em]

More to come, probably.

(Coded to OK Go's "Get Over It".)

call my name, I'm still here (part X)

"When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure."
~~Peter Marshall

(Continued from part IX.)

Another.

Jul 17, 2012, 10:00 PM

[given name],

I'm really starting to feel like the girlfriend of the Fisher King here. Only I don't have a body to visit in the hospital. I just have an absence.

I don't want you to be dead. I don't want you to be gone. But I still have no idea how to find out.

There was a lack of open beds in the in-house physical therapy hospital. But one's coming free on the 27th, so the girl's going in then. Possibly just with [other love], possibly with me, because we're not sure if she's going up by VA medical transport, or via LIFT and transfers. If LIFT, then I'll need to be the active client to bring [her] back home.

I need you, but you're not here, and that doesn't look like it's going to change. I'll write you when I have more to say.

It may be a while.

Still love you. But starting to curse your name.

[Em]

Two days later.

Thu, Jul 19, 2012, 1:48 AM

[given name],

I still don't like not writing you. It feels like I'm being very selfish. But I literally have nothing beyond speculation at this point, on why you left.

So am I owned at this point? Am I Yours? Does it matter? Do you care at all?

I really hope you do. But I also hope for your return, and that's starting to feel like swallowing glass.

I love you. I have no idea what's going on. Tell me when you can, if you ever can.

[Em]

I'm really, really good at keeping hope alive for lost causes. It's a flaw.

One more to come, on this run, at least.

I wasn't prepared to be read like Tolstoy (part IX)

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."
~~Winston Churchill

(Continued from part VIII.)

Another one.

Jul 14, 2012, 2:34 AM

[given name],

I can't stand this, you know. The not knowing--the not knowing even months later--whether you've died, or been kidnapped, or fell into a coma, or simply walked away uncaring--honestly, I just want to know that you're okay. At this point, that's really it. My faith has eroded to rust and splinters, my heart has shattered, and still, no word.

No word.

I hate not writing. I hate not communicating. But I am calling into the abyss, and I do not like the silence I'm hearing back.

And I am trying, I am doing my best to keep reminding myself that I love you, that you are still worthy of that love, and that trust, and that faith, and it's getting so difficult to breathe...I am keeping what faith I can, and hoping for the best, and trying to reconstruct a life without you in it.

When I never wanted a life without you in it.

And still, I am~

Yours.

[Em]

Followed by a very short one.

Sat, Jul 14, 2012, 9:59 PM

[given name],

please.

please, [given name], please...if you don't want to own me I will find a way to understand, if you don't want to love me I'll work on accepting that too, I just want to know you're OKAY

please, just that, just tell me that.

And another.

Sun, Jul 15, 2012, 10:48 PM

Why no word? We're back here again. What went wrong? Why are you just GONE?

Gods, I hope you're okay.

And another.

Mon, Jul 16, 2012, 9:00 PM

It's crossed my mind today that maybe you've decided it's too late. That maybe you think too much time has passed, and you'd rather have regrets than come forward and risk the pain of argument, or even just conversation.

There's a couple things wrong with that assumption, if you have it. First: it's not too late if you come back. It's only too late if you don't.

And the second, paired with the first: it's only too late to fix things if I give up on you. And though I am in pain, alternating between rage, fear and worry, I haven't given up on you yet.

Not completely. Hope may be dying on the vine, but it takes a long, long time to expire.

And I still love you.

[Em]

More to come.

a symbol for my shame, the color of your name (part VIII)

"Three separate ER nurses have either rolled their eyes at me or called me 'lame' for dropping a hatchet on my own head. Everyone's a critic."
~~John Roderick

(Continued from part VII.)

The next link in the chain.

Sun, Jul 8, 2012, 10:11 PM

[given name],

Today has been spent, in between scorching bouts of heat adaptation, working on lessening the tendency to reach for you. I have felt, all day, as if I am continuously stretching out my arms, seeking reassurance, seeking presence, which is not there. And each time I have that moment of realization, followed by depression, followed by resolve.

I have ingrained so many processes in you. Surcease and desire, devotion and absolution, fear and balm, and I am again standing in my own way if I keep responding. It makes it difficult to think on you, to process--even to write.

I've written other poems but you're not here, so I'm uploading them to Tumblr and letting them stand.

It used to be just seeing your name lifted my heart, made my pulse flutter and charmed me, claimed me, changed me. Now? I think of you and I cry.

It's not a good change.

Still love you. Still here. Back to trying not to hate you.

[Em]

Still trying to track all the scattered poems down throughout the Tumblr archive. It's taking some time.

More to come if I find it.

(Coded to Black Veil Brides' Scarlet Cross on repeat.)

I know love is the loneliest place when you fall alone (part VII)

"To stray from built order is to confront the man with a gun."
~~Adam Gopnik

(Continued from part VI.)

The first of several short ones.

Jul 6, 2012, 4:52 AM

[given name],

I don't like not writing you. But today was the first fairly calm day I've had in over a month, and it's the first night I feel as if I'll be able to leave the keys, and go to sleep. I don't entirely know why I got so wrapped up in you, but I'm pulling away as much as I can stand, and trying to focus on making my life work again, over why your life separated from mine.

When I have to, I'll take other days off; in the meantime, trying to obey You in looser fashion, and see how it goes.

I'll be here when you get back, if you ever do, and I do love you.

[Em]

This was followed by

Jul 7, 2012, 12:45 AM

Master,

For most of the evening, I've been resting and fairly immobile; I'm keeping dinner down but I have a severe migraine, so I didn't even return to the keys until nearly midnight. I am currently buffered by more painkiller than I want, and carefully breathing until four, where--if I'm still having pain--I'll take my nightly meds, which include ibuprofen, and be off to bed.

I'm still worried about you. I still love you. I'm still here. What I don't know is where you are, but I'm starting to let go of needing to know. You'll tell me, or you won't, and life goes on either way. And though I'm not entirely sure what it means at this point, I still consider myself~

Yours.

[Em]

A slightly longer missive to finish this entry.

Sat, Jul 7, 2012, 9:49 PM

[given name],

Today did not go well. It was punishingly hot, and I didn't respond as quickly as I should have, or there were still lingering traces of last night's migraine. Either way, I quickly grew dizzy and disoriented, and by the time I really thought it through, I was only able to stagger to the reclining chair, where I stayed, half-conscious, until the girls arrived home from shopping. They've been feeding me cold water and sips of juice, and I'm starting to pull out of it. But it was kind of scary. I'm still not all the way back to stable, and my head feels like a drum skin that's been stretched too far.

Because I don't have an effective lead-in to this today, I'll just say it: I've been talking with some friends about our situation, and this was my last reply to one of them:

"Admittedly, that's one of the things I'm afraid of. Survived everything to this point; went into therapy for two years to deal with some of my issues, and get a handle on the others; and finally, the life seemed to be solid, improving...stable.

"Then...this. And it threw me so intensely, I was actually terrified by the depth of my reaction. Thankfully, I have tools now from my therapist and I got a handle on things within two or three weeks from the collapse, but I'm still not back to stable yet.

"It's interesting, too. Half of me is afraid I'll never hear from him again, which would be a great tragedy in my life. But the other half? The other half is fearful he'll slip back by as if nothing happened over these last four months. Four months (or longer) that I spent in severe emotional disarray, begging him to contact me somehow. Four months where it was proven by silence that it doesn't matter if I'm crying over his loss, begging him to talk to me again, or ignoring him completely--I'm not important enough to him to even send out a single line to reassure me.

"That's like razors on raw flesh. And the longer I'm left with only silence as answer means I'm going to assume things that could be wrong, I'm going to make mistakes in what I think and feel, but...I don't see another choice.

"And at this point, if I do give up, then I'm doing it on my terms, too. Until I hear from him, he's effectively made the choice to be out of my life. There's a lot of pain behind that knowledge, but it's where we are. I don't have to like it, but I do have to accept it if I'm going to go anywhere worth going."

This is what I know at this point: I'm not saying goodbye. I don't feel like I'm Yours, most of the time now; or put another way, I don't feel as if I'm protected and loved (at least, by You; I know the girls love me, and they are supporting me all that they can), but I'm not saying goodbye.

This is stubborn; I recognize that. And it will hurt me if you do intend on staying away longer, or even forever. I don't deny that. On the other hand, I've already been hurt by the past four months so, in a sense, I'm already there. I accept this pain.

But if you're too cowardly even to send me a simple text message, just one simple line saying you're *alive*...then you really don't have any room to complain. I'm still here--I haven't left--but today I stop obsessing, I stop fretting over things I can't change.

When I feel it's important, I'll write. I'll try to work on my writing and figure out if there's any ending for either story, or start a new one. And while I have no interest in dating, roleplay, or online relationships in general--I''m stepping away from those rules, too.

And if you disagree, you're welcome to talk to me. Ball's in your court.

[Em]

You know the refrain by now. No further word.

More to come.

just keep on saving our goodbyes (part VI)

"Be less curious about people and more curious about ideas."
~~Marie Curie

(Continued from part V.)

Found another one.

Jul 3, 2012, 9:50 PM

[given name],

The girl is currently in the land of constant panic attacks due to all the explosions. The air outside smells like moss and cordite. And most of me right now wants to beat the computer screen and scream aloud, but...that would do no good, so...back to waiting, to reconstructing, to eventually becoming not a wreck without you, and without knowing what's happened to you.

If it helps, at this point I'm getting thoroughly sick of being a weepy, emotional mess. I have walked so many times to the very edge of writing a letter with that fateful word, but I keep stopping. Not necessarily because of you, but because of me.

I didn't agree to be Yours just for fun. I certainly didn't do it because of convenience. And holding to that line has cost me another relationship, has given me a bit of conflict with [another love], and not a small amount of emotional strife along the way. If it were easy to be Yours--to be anyone's--then it wouldn't have the power to sweep me under the way it does.

But, by that same extension, if I hear nothing, I have nothing to go on. Just as I can't be owned by a ghost, I can't break up with a ghost, either. Until you're there, I can't confirm or deny you, on any level.

But as I've said before, I can't stay here. I think too much, I feel too much, every time I seriously think of the months of absence, and the possible whys, I just break down. This is not good for me.

I've been using the nightly poetry jaunts as a therapeutic device, but at this point, they're just trapping me into the same morass of worry, fear, anxiety and pain. I need to find a way to get out of this place.

I'm not breaking up with you. I still love you. I am angry and I am hurt and I am desperately afraid, but I'm still here.

However.

I'm not writing a letter tomorrow.

This is not going to be a forever thing, but right now, I'm facing too much. Writing you is another access point into all that pain and fear, and I need to--not want to, at this point, need to--step away.

I won't be far. You can always reach me by email, by a comment on my Twitter, my Tumblr, or you can call, since we don't have international calling. I'm appending my info on the end of this letter, in case you don't have it at present.

I miss you, I am less without you, but I have to start walking forward or I'm not going to live through this confusion. Flat out.

Em

Trimmed off all the personal contact details I appended after, but it was everything I had at the time--every working email, every social media point, physical address, phone number. Everything I could think of, much of which he'd been given before.

Nothing.

(Quite possibly a couple more to come.)

and I don't want to go home right now (part V)

"Be pretty if you can, be witty if you must, be agreeable if it kills you."
~~Elsie de Wolfe

(Continued from part IV.)

The last I've found so far.

Jan 30, 2012, 4:30 AM

Master,

Late re-greetings, but we had a group venture into CoH that we wanted to start (a new story arc which it seems the whole of the playing population has completed but us), however, Neome was in a slowed mindset. She wasn't terrifyingly fatigued, but she wanted to get a shower done and food made and laundry started and bed remade and more laundry folded and email answered, all *before* she went in to play. So our target of two ayem turned into three-thirty before we started, and I made the decision to tell you later, and just finish the story arc.

As soon as the mission tied up, I logged off, but as you can note, it's now a half hour behind. However, I am on my way towards sleeping now.

Also, A Hole At the Bottom of the Sea is actually quite the engaging book. I think he's really doing his best to be objective, and not paint BP as the ultimate evil in the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, but he's also been granted some unprecedented access all the way along the procedure, from the first night of the accident onward. I've been very impressed with it. (It even has its own web page: http://aholeatthebottomofthesea.com/!)

And love you, and breathing, and hope you are doing well, and I am~

Yours,

[Em]

As far as I know, the last, while also written out on an iPod note before sending, seems almost too cheerfully upbeat when compared to the others. I get the definite feeling it was 'brave face' time. It didn't work for long.

I found myself playing Phoebe Bridger's "I Know The End" video over and over again, coding these out for publication.

No, for anyone curious, I never heard from him again. Still haven't, all these years later. Likely never will. Life moves on.

(Continued in part VI.)

yeah, I gotta hurt you, I gotta hear it from your mouth (part IV)

"Trouble is part of your life--if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you a chance to love you enough."
~~Dinah Shore

(Continued from part III.)

This one's three letters, again due to length.

27 January 2012

Master,

The month advances, and I'm still circling in place, wondering...wondering if I'll ever send this off; wondering if I'll have these doubts forever; wondering about why you haven't answered any questions of late. I wonder how you're doing. Is it just that busy at work? Are there greater demands on your time? Are things okay with your wife, are you arguing with friends? And don't misunderstand me: put me clear to the side as a lover, fine; as a *friend* I worry that something's eating at you, and you'd rather withdraw than talk about it. And I worry that your pattern of not talking until things resolve may backfire on you at some point. Because until, unless, if ever, we talk about some of these issues, they're not going to go away.

And I'm not sure, honestly, how many of these issues, at this point, will go away if we talk them out. I'd just like to make the attempt.

One day later...

28 January 2012

Master,

So, I keep going back and forth between 'Oh please, like he even cares' and 'Of course he loves you, what are you, an idiot?' And I'm currently trying to figure out where this massive doubt is coming from. This is complicated by the week of insane moodiness, followed by the week of anger, which was followed by hemorrhaging, which now seems to be winding up to a head cold.

I still haven't figured out if I'm sending you these notes. Part of me is just appalled at what seems like over-emotional whinging, and the other part is thinking at least you'll know what I feel--good or bad, at least it will be out in the open.

I think what's really holding me in place is the thought of sending all these scattered thoughts off, and hearing nothing back--again. And that is such a debilitating thought, it knots my throat and makes me pause, and take a moment to breathe, even just writing this down. This, I am now realizing, in this moment, is playing on some very deep fears. Fears you never gave me, but that are coming into play nonetheless. Fears of the unknown, of the ones who left and never told me why. Fears of writing letters never answered, fears of my inability to understand, and all of that now overlaid over your seeming distance.

It's been a pattern. This one is far from the first to simply disappear on me without word. He wasn't even the second.

29 January 2012

Master,

It's been a week. I've read over this text file, and none of these issues are resolved. So I'm sending this. I can't live in fear. And if you don't answer, you don't answer. I'll find a way to cope, with or without you.

I love you, but I'm tired of fighting both sides of this battle in my head. If you want to talk to me, it's not like you don't know where I am.

[Em]

One more to go (I think).

spending all night wondering why you let me go (part III)

"The heart is knit by the pain that breaks it; the life is made whole by the death that starts it; the death is made whole by the life that ends it."
~~Diane Duane

(Continued from part II.)

More from the archives.

25 January 2012

Master,

I'm overthinking things again, but I'm thinking about talking with you last night, and I'm trying to find that dividing line. I still feel there's a rift, and maybe I'll always feel like that until--and if--we talk things out. But...I feel closer. So what I'm trying to decide is, can I adapt to a relationship that has occasional staggering pitfalls of doubt, and no explanations, and no apologies? Is that enough of a relationship? Or maybe it's just the relationship I have, and I have no choice, it's this or...nothing.

I don't want nothing. I do love you. I profoundly *hate* feeling shut out, though, and that's what I'm struggling with. And I have no guarantees right now that you're even reacting to any of the things I've said in previous letters, or that you're not simply remembering I'm here again.

Is it my lack of focus that's made you so distant? You don't want to get closer because you don't think *I'll* be there? And I don't know the answer to that, either.

This may be the only one paired with a second letter, because they were both fairly short.

26 January 2012

Master,

"Merely submitting is a good start, a declaration of intent, but not nearly enough.

"First of all, the submission has to be proven--to the sub as well as to the Dom. Every command followed, every lesson learned, every cruelty endured makes the bond deeper and more meaningful. Everyone can say 'I'll do whatever you want, Sir!', but at first that is just a fantasy. It even sounds like a fantasy. But only after you worked and suffered for every memory and experience it becomes a more realistic and now entirely believable 'I’ll do whatever I CAN, Sir!'.

"And second, there is a 'right' way to submit. But what that means depends entirely on the person who is in control. It’s not a specific role that is played, but the sum of the little experiences and lessons that shape the way the sub acts and feels. And it is not a conscious effort--quite the opposite. The only conscious effort the sub should make, in my humble opinion, is concentrating entirely on her little world, her Dom, and the task at hand. Everything else is learned simply through repetition and 'training'. The real beauty begins when the sub is doing precisely what pleases the Dom without any effort or conscious thought. Then she is truly his."

I am trying, trying with everything in me, to cling to that fingers-length of hope that all is not lost, in this. I feel less bereft than this day last week; I feel as if today is the first day I've been able to inhale, and relax, even if minutely. Then I came across this passage, and I'm pondering again.

Is this what I've been doing? Am I so desperately reaching for any kind of connection that I've fallen into "anything" and "whatever" modes of thought? Is that what you want? I know in the beginning you told me that you wanted someone to be Yours, but that it was additional to who we were, who we are to each other. I think I never took that seriously enough, because [ex] had said that too, in the beginning, and then the demands slowly escalated. And please understand it's not additional demands I would mind; it's the fact that I hear a similar phrase, and I think of the last time it was said, and wonder if they're similar circumstances. In my mind, demands escalate, and going from slow exploration, to the...the virtual, real collaring we'd reached (if that's the right phrase for it), and from then to...nothing? Months and months of nothing? I'm circling, and spiraling down, because I think if we're not advancing, then you're withdrawing.

But then I remind myself, this is you. You don't say things you don't mean. You say what you mean to say, whether it's expressing love, anger, confusion, conversation. You don't lie. No previous motives apply to you, ever.

But, I think that's also why I profoundly begin to doubt when you say nothing at all, because that *could* mean, maybe in fact *does* mean, that there are deeper things you don't feel like sharing with me going on. Things beyond simply being busy at work. Things I wonder if I could help with, at least in listening.

But again, I don't have the words to ask. Because that much has become pattern--I ask, I never get an answer anymore. And it's hard not to continually believe that.

More to come.

sitting by the phone, holding onto hope (part II)

(Continued from part I.)

More from the archives.

23 January 2012

Master,

I am finding out how thin my veneer of self-esteem really is. I'm trying to break it down into separate components, and I'm working on rebuilding, but I'm understanding now that part of the cracking of that very thin veneer happened when you started ignoring me. I know I invest heavily in those I love; I can be hard to cope with, I can be high maintenance, and I'm never sure I'm worth the effort spent on me, but believe me, I do notice that effort. Especially, I notice it when it's gone.

You got busy. I get that. I've said that before, I *do* understand, honestly. But all previous times you've been busy you've always had...something. A hand on my hair, a few words, and I survive on the small things.

But...what, three or four months, now? Whenever it was that things got so hectic, you went away, for the weekend that turned into the holiday that turned into that extended vacation, and when you came back....everything seemed to stop.

Am I misremembering it? Perhaps they tapered off over a longer period of time than I recall, but to me, at least, it seemed quite sudden. One month was fine--or at least, broken in understandable ways--and the next month...you stopped talking to me.

Why?

And then there's the talking, period. After everything, you said at one point, we'd have to take some time and talk everything out. You were waiting for the right time, you said. That time never seemed to come. I kept waiting, but I didn't think I should ask about *when* we'd be talking, I just wanted us at some point *to* be talking. I thought you'd made it clear. And I've been waiting as patiently as I can, but I think the longer it sits, the longer things aren't going to be resolved.

The bigger problem is, I keep going back to the basics. I love you; I'm sure of that. But I'm mad at you, and that's true, too. I want you to talk to me, but I don't know how to ask for it. I know I'm willing to ask in print, but you never answer.

You *never* answer. Why don't you ever answer? Is it too hard? Do you no longer care? These are the questions I keep coming back to, and it gets worse the longer we go on. I've gone from "you're busy so I must be patient" to "Do you even love me anymore?"

In another month, two, three...will I move from insecurity and doubt to solid acceptance that you don't care? Once I hit there, then what happens?

Do you even want to prevent me from drawing the wrong conclusions?

And if I ever send these missives off...will you fail to answer them, as well? Because that's what hurts the deepest--not being ignored; not being dismissed because right now, I'm less important than the things you need to do (and I understand that, I *do* understand that, because that much *is* true--I *am* less important than the real issues of your life); but the fact that I ask questions, questions I (at least think I) need the answers to, and the fact that you don't respond.

And while you never answered all questions I asked, you did answer *some* before. And that was okay. But over the past few months, you've stopped answering anything. It's like I'm speaking in a void, a vacuum. And *that* has been telling me, over and over, in quiet and harmful ways, that you *don't* care, that you're just waiting for me to leave.

I don't like thinking that. I really don't. I'm trying very hard to hold that locked into a specific place, so it doesn't wander and create more doubt. I don't like doubting.

But you're helping the doubt thrive, right now.

More to come.

oh, I'm scared if I look in your eyes, I might see your soul (part I)

While we're still talking about old loves, and survival...a series of letters I never intended to publish. Which likely will make no sense to anyone but me, but, based on this Twitter thread...it's on my mind.

So this will be a series I'll set to publish randomly over the course of February and March [Insert from the Editrix: They're going to run into June, one every week or two. Oops], depending on how many of these I find.

22 January 2012

Master,

I don't know when I'll send any of this. I may not. I only know that now is the night I start trying to figure it all out.

I'm beginning to think that things started to go wrong the first time I said no. I don't think we ever recovered; in time, we might, but you were angry, and I was hurt, and it all took far too much time to resolve. Even with that, I believe things still might have recovered, *may* recover, but...for the past four months, I've felt as if I'm standing by myself, not next to you. That, if you're near at all, you're only watching now, not interacting.

And I've done my best to think this through. Yes, I miss talking to you, but that's just talking. Yes, I miss the sex, but that's really, at the end of the day, just sex. I miss...what I miss is feeling that I'm *yours*. Treasured...loved...bidden to your will...when at this point, all I really feel is the burden of it, like you're waiting, with grieving patience, for me to get fed up and leave.

Like everyone else has.

Here's something I know about me. I can endure just about anything. Especially wavering right now between soul-deep depression and abiding anger, I know I can endure just about anything. Especially if my stubbornness kicks in, which I'm still trying to figure out if it has or not. But I also know this: I'd rather give in than give up, and especially in matters of the heart, my version of 'giving in' generally means I can't take any more damage and survive. And I do know I push it, sometimes to places which break me, because...because something in my make-up is tragically flawed. I can submit, though I'm stubborn about it; I cannot give up until I'm driven to that place, broken and bleeding, and it's give up or die. And even then, I fold rather than admit I've fallen.

I haven't given in yet. But I'm starting to hurt more than I want to, and I'm deeply unhappy. I feel forsaken, I feel as if I'm grieving having never had the loss to show for it, and I feel very, *very* deeply angry. And so far, I'm too depressed and too angry even to *cry* over all this, which by the way, my therapist wants me to do before she sees me next week. I wonder what she'll say when I tell her I wasn't able to do it.

Whatever I write here, however long it takes me to get it to you--assuming I do, assuming I'm willing to open myself up to more potential pain--this is where it ends. Once I hit wherever the 'end' is, to these notes (assuming I send it then), I send it, but then I'm done talking. And if you never bring it up, *any* of it up, that's it. Sooner or later even I'll hit that point, and I'll give up on you too.

I love you, you bastard. Don't push me to that point.

More to come.

you were in my dream last night, but your face was someone else's

Oh, not this again.

[20:42] bxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: Hi Everyone! New here, love to meet new people. Would any lady like to chat/talk?

We've heard this before.

[20:42] Emilly Orr: One day old, soliciting in a store group. Good luck with that.

Pulled his profile, shook my head, because seriously--one day old, he's jumping into store groups with a 'ladies hit me up' line? Come on, now. Does that ever work?

[20:43] Axxxxx Cxxxx: come party woth us
[20:43] bxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: where at?

They don't say it here, but I know from the conversation at the end of this--someone far more patient than I am ported him in to her club. Didn't...work out.

[20:43] Cxxxxxxx Gxxxxxxxx: right emilly
[20:43] Cxxxxxxx Gxxxxxxxx: XD
[20:43] Emilly Orr: Honestly, doesn't even phase me any more.
[20:43] Txx Axxxx: read profule, same as [Bxxxx] from before, lol

Cue aaaagh, because that particular individual haunted the group through several iterations of "please let me be your doormat", to the point that it became a running joke.

[20:43] Txx Axxxx: bless
[20:44] Emilly Orr: Oh, no, really?
[20:44] Emilly Orr: That's very nearly an insta-block
[20:44] Emilly Orr: I stopped at one day old, no SL pic
[20:44] Txx Axxxx: He is just looking in the wrong places

Well, hasn't everyone at least once? But this does go a tad far.

[20:45] Emilly Orr: Truth
[20:45] Emilly Orr: Like, possibly-[Bxxxx] [bxxxxxxxxx] person: Try, y'know, looking in femdom groups? Just as a suggestion?
[20:50] Exxxxxxxxxx Mxxxx: lol Emily, I brought him over to my event at a Femdom and he left

This would be the lass I mentioned above, who decided to help him out. Only...

[20:50] Zxxx Wxxxxxxx: lol
[20:50] bxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: i am trying to get a better avi
[20:51] Axxxxxxx Vxxxxxxx: lol
[20:51] Emilly Orr: Oh, don't EVEN

Because if I'm fed up with guys seeking girls in all the wrong places, I'm past done with guys scamming for Lindens. Not only no, but hell no.

[20:51] bxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: why not?
[20:51] Zxxx Wxxxxxxx: guess him claiming being submissive, was #fake too lol

Probably.

[20:51] Emilly Orr: Do NOT beg in here
[20:51] bxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: i'm not fake..was trying to get a avi
[20:51] Emilly Orr: Uh-huh

That's what they all say...

Conversation stalled there, but my IMs pinged, so I clicked over a tab. This was the lass that ported him to her club:

[20:54] Exxxxxxxxxx Mxxxx: lol he said I was rude and uncool and insulted him in that group
[20:54] Emilly Orr: How?
[20:54] Exxxxxxxxxx Mxxxx: evidently because I said I tp'd him here and he left
[20:54] Emilly Orr facepalms

Of, fer gossakes. How can someone be rude by trying to give you what you want? That makes zero sense.

[20:55] Exxxxxxxxxx Mxxxx: I told him that wasn't rude, He's in for a rude awakening around this place if he thinks that's rude
[20:55] Emilly Orr: Yeah, really. Poor delicate flower.

I mean, sure, he's one day old, assuming he's not a new face for an old spammer, but...seriously?

[20:55] Exxxxxxxxxx Mxxxx: yeah, he's not got the stuff to be a sub
[20:56] Emilly Orr: Tch. Sounded like that was what he wanted. Go figure.
[20:57] Exxxxxxxxxx Mxxxx: it really did didn't it. I have been djing at this femdom for 11+ years on friday nights. Figured I'd hook him up.
[20:58] Emilly Orr just shakes her head
[20:58] Emilly Orr: Even with help, some people.
[20:58] Exxxxxxxxxx Mxxxx: That's true. And I tried to tell him he's not going to get another avi for free. He said he didn't want to hear it from me because I insulted him, was rude and uncool. Oh well. I TRY to help noobs. He's beyond it
[20:59] Exxxxxxxxxx Mxxxx: anyway, thought I'd tell ya I tried
[20:59] Emilly Orr: Well, more power to you!

I feel for her. She's just trying to be nice to some poor little subby boy, and what does he do? Call her rude and storm off because she won't buy him an avatar. The nerve of some people.

and we went from zero to everything all in a day

Yes, I'm definitely in a rut. But at least it's a "fun" one (so to speak), and I'm seeing a lot of sims. And I've even found one or two I want to revisit, which is pretty neat overall. Plus, I'm kind of encouraging it, because--at least at first--it was getting me out of my head and letting me think.

It's not exactly doing that now, but...I'm still having fun taking pictures? So there will be several more of these coming out in July, and then they'll start to be more scattershot.



it was a cold 3 a.m. at JFK
I guess you stayed because you wanted to stay
and we went from zero to everything all in a day
and then Kennedy took you away

So. Let's unpack the situation a bit. Let's talk motivations.

I thought of a short robe that was keeping you warm
and the moments that make up your life 'til you wake up
you sit on a swing in the dark with a girl
and she tells you she wanted to kiss you

Mainly, this is me still trying to pin down an exact cause, because that's worked so well so far, right?



and you know
the worst part of a good day
is hearing yourself say goodbye to one more possibility day
it goes on and on

Let's bring up the lure of the forbidden. Could that be it? Sure. Ban anything and I get curious. Usually not to the extent of going after it directly, unless we're talking films, and...well, let's just say I wasn't able to finish watching Salo, and I never even tried to get through A Serbian Film because of the ending (and, gentles all, for the love of anything you hold holy, do not click those links unless you're prepared to be seriously disturbed. I'm not kidding). I'm still going back and forth on whether I actually need to see any of the Guinea Pig films from Japan, because...yeah, there just may be some sights I don't need to feed my brain.

I go west but your weather has changed
you’re just scared, I mistake it for strange
when you want me to leave
then you start to believe I should stay
but I gotta get out of LA

But how does the saying go? Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought him back? Well, at least in the case of disturbing films, or disturbing music, disturbing visuals, disturbing fetishes...this cat may get curious, I may go somewhere to get my queries answered, but I rarely end up satisfied at the end of the discovery.



it seems like the short days are over
'cause you just don't sleep in the daylight so I don't sit up nights
I lie on my back on the top of a hill
and your body is breaking the sky

I mean, it doesn't stop me, but...it rarely makes me happy.

'cause you're shaking
and the worst part of a good day is knowing it's slipping away
that's one more possibility day that is gone

All right. So, that's not so much of a surprise. What about general acting out? It's universally a patch of illogic in children that if they're not getting attention, then any attention, good or bad, becomes desirable. Of course, negative attention usually makes the acting out worse, because no child actually wants negative reinforcement...

we were waiting for winter this year
but you came and it never appeared
me and you, we know too many reasons
for people and seasons that pass like they weren't even here

So if it's not precisely the ban itself--or, at least, not entirely--does it default to...well, 'brattiness'? For lack of a better term.



now 'living in smiles is better', you say
but we carry the burdens of all of our days
so I'm scared that you'll leave, and you're scared that I'll stay
it's an impossibility day
and we only saw half the ballet

I'm not a child, but I have retained several 'acting out' behaviors into adulthood. Chief among them--if I'm nagged to do a thing, I will put it off later out of sheer stubbornness. I tell myself it's a bad trait, I attempt to change it, but any challenge across that tentative resolve sends me right back into past pattern. Every damned time.

I said goodnight, goodbye
it seems like a good thing, so you know it’s a good lie
you can run out of choices
and still hear a voice in your head when you're lying in bed

But that has its incomplete areas as a working theory, too. One, I'm with someone who's used to brattiness, and knows exactly how to quell it, and, well...a, that takes some of the 'fun', twisted though it may be, out of it, and b, it is making me less 'bratty' overall, which...honestly, may have been the point.



and it says that the best part of a bad day is knowing it's okay
the color of everything changes
the sky rearranges its shade and your smile doesn't fade
into a phone call and one bad decision we made

If it's not that...is it my brain trying to think around corners? Or in this case, trying to phase through the goddamn bricks in the wall? Yeah, maybe. I am known both to self-sabotage, and to look for any and all loopholes. For someone as rigorously devoted to obeying the rules, I am quite the determined anarchist when I want to be.

and the worst part of a good day is the one thing you don't say
and you don't know how but you wish there was some way
so you pull down the shades and you shut off the lights
because somehow we mixed up 'goodbye' and 'goodnight'

So if it's only partially being denied, and not, or at least, not completely, acting out or loophole-seeking, then...I mean, we can default to the basic 'I miss him', and sure, that's there, but it's not the why I keep spinning in circles.



and the one thing you won't say is
'everyone knows possibility days are impossible'
it just feels wrong, so wrong
still, you're gone, long gone

Because I've missed people before. With very few exceptions, everyone who's broken up with me, and in all honesty, one or two I broke up with, I wasn't ready at that point to completely let them go. So maybe that should be added to the theory list--unwillingness to detach. Or separate. Or...I'm sure there's a better way to phrase it, I'm not finding the particular word currently.

Eventually, I'll figure it out, or I'll just shrug and accept I am my own worst psychotherapist and move on. Could go either way, honestly.

Pictures taken at the Dark Citadel, Whimsy, Crumbi Rail Station, the Night Court, New Orleans by Night, Quiddity and celeste.sanct. (Lyrics from Possibility Days by Counting Crows.)