what is left now that it's over?

I think we're past fire at this point...



I like to think, whether this is self-delusion or not, that I'm at least adequate at working out issues between people. I try not to fly off the handle these days; I try to listen and then try to articulate what I need to have said. No one's perfect, I'm not, no one is, but...I thought I had at least a minor ability, there.

If what just resolved, in spite of every attempt I made, is indicative of skill...I've been lying to myself.



I'm finding it morbidly amusing currently, that when I started my Twitch account, I chose the name I'd just started running under, emptydoll. Because I'd just suffered a very bad breakup and at the time, I felt very small, very empty, very broken.

Fast forward to this moment, these feelings, and I just feel...hollowed out. I'm not mad, I'm not crying hysterically, I'm just...exhausted. It takes effort to breathe. Everything around me is very, very quiet, in that excruciatingly loud way.

Once again, I am the empty doll, trying to figure out what I do now.



I never wanted another ban of anyone else I cared for. I never wanted my dominant to feel as if he had to step in to protect me from hurting myself, as well as continuing to be hurt by someone else. I never wanted to feel like this again.

We don't always get what we want.

Eventually, I'll be back to some form of steady state. The walls are going to be very high for quite some time. The masks are going to be riveted in place. I'll do what I can to drop them around others I love, but it certainly won't be easy, and depending on where I am, what I'm doing, and definitely who I'm interacting with...it may not even be possible.

But we'll deal with that when it happens. All I can do is keep moving forward. And picking myself up when I fall down, when the weight of my heart is too much to carry.

I get through this. I've gotten through worse things. I just mourn, yet again, that I have to.

Still spinning in the heart of Hagalaz, I suppose. And waiting for the hail to thaw.

it spirals as I ache to find holy embrace

the gate is closed, I'm left outside...

I am suddenly finding myself in the position of having a readership--don't look at me that way, I know I have a readership, I will just always continue to think of it as a small readership for my own peace of mind--that knows me. In some cases, very well. And for the first time in...ever...here, I'm thinking of editing what I send out.

Don't misunderstand me. The blog will not change. It is simultaneously confessional and chatroom, and courtroom and playground, and haunted house, high theatre and fashion runway, why would I abandon what hasn't worked so far? Get real. This is me, after all.

But I come to the well sometimes to drink from the waters, and sometimes to speak truth into them, and sometimes to look at my reflection and see if it's changed...and sometimes to cry out against the injustice of all things. And...that readership, you see. If I'm not very careful in how I phrase things, I'm going to sound as if I put too much emphasis on something that was, essentially...very minor.

So this one may be more oblique than usual.

Yesterday, something new had been added to Gearhaven. I'd gotten up very early the night before, head full of static, unable to sleep, so I'd logged in and started creating things that would make the empty land feel...0.00005% less empty. I'd rezzed out some benches to fill the corners of the garden, until I figured out what and how I wanted to do things there, and had been in the process of decorating a simple gazebo to take up the rest of the space, when the energy gave out and I stumbled back to bed.


(What had been done so far.)

A few hours later, I got up again, logged back in, and started creating something else from an idea I'd woken up with. It may not last. It feels very much like just a sketch in mesh and prims currently. But it gives me an idea of what the idea was, if that makes sense, and I may or may not be able to do better in time.

And I had noticed the thing that had been added, and the glowing ring (seen in the image above) removed. Which, I suddenly realized, was much larger than the space I'd intended to drop it in. So...suddenly, we needed more space around the Ocean Club. Which meant I had to drop the land to the very bottom of the ocean floor, hollow out more space, and make sure everything was clear around the club itself before I could fill anything in anywhere.

But I did that. It's now seated on the ocean floor, roughly in the center of the bay of Gearhaven, as far as I can tell, fully functional. And I went to drop a port circle to make it another destination, and...got a message I had never seen before. To quote a bit of chat from elsewhere:

[11:41 AM] Emilly: Oh, I just saw a weird new dropdown: "Unable to create item that has caused problems on this region"
[11:41 AM] Emilly: Wha?
[12:02 PM] jxxxxxxxxxxxxxx: yeah.
[12:02 PM] jxxxxxxxxxxxxxx: my guitar.
[12:02 PM] jxxxxxxxxxxxxxx: in the music room.
[12:06 PM] Emilly: blinks
[12:06 PM] Emilly: I....what?
[12:07 PM] Emilly: How...if it was your guitar, how come I couldn't drop anything?

Still a good question, but turns out what she meant was, she'd noticed the same issue with her guitar. Oh. So I'd been in the process of relogging, and when I logged back in...bigger issue.

[12:07 PM] Emilly: And how come everything fell off....
[12:12 PM] jxxxxxxxxxxxxxx: i don't think the guitar was the problem.
[12:12 PM] jxxxxxxxxxxxxxx: i think it was a symptom of the greater problem the region was having.
[12:16 PM] Emilly: Right.

But on the grid, I was panicking, completely. Because when I say everything fell off? It wasn't just outfit, hair, heels, eyes, and body...it was all my attachments. And, okay, fine, I've had the back necklace get detached before, I've had the anklet detach--neither of those are locked on, but I consider them on permanently, so I like to make sure they're there. That wasn't what shocked.

My collar vanished. Which was locked around my neck. And, considering the recent unnevenness with the dominant? This was...I couldn't get my mind around it.

I relogged twice, both times back to Gearhaven, and still nothing, and nothing would even attach from my inventory, and finally, I ported to another property we own, and slowly...slowly...watched things attach. But not everything.

I was helpfully reminded, and thank you, dear, you know who you are, that I had saved outfits that did include the collar, so I switched to one of those, and...it came back. I was already late for the Aruba ballroom, because I'd intended to break at noon to go; I nearly had an arm cramp from terraforming; and I was shellshocked, so I just set everything aside for the first hour and went and danced. After that, I sent three IMs (that, it turned out later, I had to grab from history, because none of them went through anyway) to said dominant, informing him that I had not in fact, run off and left his collar behind, and then, after the dance...went back to Gearhaven.

Or tried to. Because it was in the process of folding in on itself.

Over the next two hours, we went from a sim that had issues, to a sim that was visibly tottering, to a sim that finally dragged me down into oblivion with it, to the extent that I had to delete my copy of Firestorm and reinstall a fresh one before I could relog into SL. And I couldn't relog into Gearhaven...I'd never seen anything like it.

I hadn't completely managed to ditch the stress of the collar disappearance, and now this. One day before the gala. What were we going to do?

And while that was happening, I realized that half the maps I'd rezzed out in the foyer of Steam were no-copy. Which meant they were now locked in the void along with Gearhaven.


(As in...this picture is taken in the Dark Sea. Gearhaven should be clearly visible behind me.)

And I tried to put it all out of my mind. I did. I logged off, I went to take a nap, I made some tea, I had dinner...I thought I'd calmed down. Until I logged in and Gearhaven wasn't back.


(It's just...creepy. That tiny little sandbar? That's the other half of Darktow, the half that's in the Dark Sea. The rest of it is missing...along with everything on it from that side...along with the rest of Gearhaven.)

Crisis. So. Deal with necessities first. Went to Oceanpoint and grabbed a landmark to send to our DJ, in case the gala ended up being there. Dug out all the maps I had, found ones that were close to the ones I'd set out originally, and put them up on the walls. Moved everything that had been in the foyer into the music room. Put the art that had been in the foyer in the kitchen. Worked with our attaché to rez out and set down forty more overbright chairs for seating. Tried to figure out what else could be done before I had to log off at eleven.

Then, at ten...it happened. Something that on any other day would have earned an amused smile and a wish for joy and wandering off with a light step. (This is the thing I'm not going to go into, more than that.) And I know that, is the thing, I am absolutely sure on that. I know--rationally, logically, mentally--that it was a culmination of an extreme day of stress, and I was far more emotionally fragile than I realized, in that moment.

But..I was far more emotionally fragile than I realized, in that moment. And it just...cut me in half, how it went down, and I had to figure out how to reassemble enough even to walk away, at first, and then once I had...I couldn't go to Gearhaven, it wasn't there; I didn't want to go to the Dark Sea and sit on the cold stones; I desperately did not want to be alone, but...there it was.

I found myself just staring into the flames of the firepit by the cabin in Playa, telling myself I should just log off, just call it a day and leave, but...I couldn't...move. Because I had been thinking of asking for an extension to midnight, for...potential things, and...well. No need for that, now, was there?

And the dominant asked what happened. And I told him. And he ported back home, and held me, and I cried on his shoulder, and could breathe again. And while I will never, ever, welcome emotional pain, whether it turns out to be good for me or not, this at least was useful, because...in that moment, I needed support. I needed to be held. And he gave me both of those. The strong, steady presence of him that had made me agree to his collar in the first place...and which had started to feel profoundly missing this last year.

So...I'm going to go to sleep now. I may or may not sleep the night through, but I am going to try. I'm going to get up tomorrow, and likely strap on armor I haven't needed these past few months, but...I suspect I will definitely need it tomorrow. And I will take that step back from certain entanglements so I can figure out why this hit so hard, if there's anything I'm not seeing. Which may cause a bit of minor strife, but...for once in my life, I'm claiming self-preservation first, before I worry about everyone else.

And...ultimately, this is just one night. This is one thing that slid off the rails into shadow when the rest of the train travels in golden light, knowing I support and am supported, knowing I love and am loved. One thing. And this will pass. And I'm not broken. Probably bruised a bit; possibly even slightly dented.

But I'll heal.

Which, you know, considering some of my history...that alone is a miracle.

But I do need to think about this. And that may take longer than one night. I'm too close to everything, right now, to see exactly what went wrong, so I need a bit of time to gain that clarity. And then I can move on.

All things considered...I've been hurt less and suffered more, prior to this, so...maybe this is a sign of growth? Maybe. We'll see how it plays out from here, at any rate.

kills me to kill you when I tell you that I felt it once, I can't feel it twice

My mind turns to the past, personal excavation, private excoriation made public, taking inward pain and turning it into outward expression and learning from it once it's part of the world. At least I'm on brand.

And I found myself rereading earlier missives from--and to--the fellow for which I've been posting my lettered outreachings. The penny had dropped halfway coding them up to publish, but I think it finally finished dropping tonight: I'm posting these letters from the far long-ago because I'm dealing with a situation that is in no way similar now...and is by the same extension, very, very similar indeed.



Sometimes the penny drops slowly, sometimes it drops out of sight too fast to see. Sometimes it simply melts from the incandescence of inner rage, or shatters into chips of ice from the inner chill.

Why am I worried? Because I am. Because I do. Because I see the possibility of someone else slipping away...not in the same way, no, not exactly, but...there is definitely more distance, and once more, I can't pinpoint the exact reason...except, with the virtue of hindsight, in this case, even, preserved written hindsight...I know the reason.

Or at least, I know the reason it happened then. And I can't go through this again.



And I know now what's been staying my hand--to have this talk with him? Means to bring up all these old insecurities and doubts, most of which I've brought up before, which has resulted in feck-all happening, always, and...stasis, I suddenly realize, while excruciating in every way, is, to my way of thinking, far easier to cope with than the stunning totality of loss.



But. Here's the thing. Here's the point I'm missing, and perhaps I'm missing it because it's been pointed directly at the center of my eye all this time: I cannot, I will not, know it's a loss until I talk about the possibility. It's not gone until I'm told it's gone. It's not gone until I give up.



Which sort of makes it Schrödinger's relationship, in a sense--is it alive at present? Is it dead? I won't know as long as I'm afraid to inhale and move forward, in some direction, even if it's away.



I don't want away. I don't want another loss. I deeply don't want to lose another collar. But as things stand, currently? I don't know what I do have, and I won't know until I ask. And since the last one was nearly entirely my fault for a variety of unhelpful reasons...is this one also?



Don't mistake my words on this. What I was asked to do was cause myself a great deal of temporary, brief pain to avoid longer-lasting, bone-deep agony. This is me, of course I didn't go for the quick excision of what hurt, I went for the festering unhealing, bandages over bandages, convincing myself they'd started out that red...nine years of it and counting, so far.

But that is the past. That is what was, Now, we deal with what is. So tomorrow, the great fear. Tomorrow, the end of stasis. Tomorrow...I ask.

"This is gonna hurt like hell..."

(Sims visited includes Aphrodite's Darkness, the Wandering Star, 3rd Eye Perceptions, Morbid's main store, Fugue in Briarhaven, and Be My Mannequin's main store.)

made me learn a little bit faster, made my skin a little bit thicker

(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 23rd of July.)



broken people get recycled
and I hope that I will
sometimes we're thrown off our pathways

That's stone-the-crows-at-home truth, innit? Though in all fairness, while I frequently feel I'm broken, I never feel I'm going to be recycled, yet. Rebuilt, yes. Repainted, repatched, remarked, renewed, sure. Recycled? Doesn't that mean this me disappears entirely into someone else?

(Oh. Well. Yes. But we're not talking about those times.)

I'm still slightly tilted over how fast this all fell apart, too. I had a very good birthday, for once, which I will likely always treasure; two days later I'd hit a melancholy patch, reflecting on life decisions in general; two days past that I decided it was finally time to float the train to the surface, and try land again.

And then...everything exploded. That's kind of mentally stunning on its own.



what I thought was my way home
wasn't the place I--

no, I'm not afraid of changing
I'm certain nothing's certain
what we own becomes our prison

my possessions will be gone
back to where they came from

Or..put another way...the more concrete our sense of self becomes, the more limiting it becomes. I wrestle with this a great deal, because as much as I advocate how important change and adaptability are, I struggle against both adaptation and changing. Though I think it's one reason why I'm a shapeshifter in SL (and why I perpetually cycle through hair colors in RL). Reconfiguration is important, but only if we're free enough to consider change. (Or brave enough.)



blame
no one is to blame
as natural as the rain that falls
here comes the flood again

Loss must be mourned, yes. Mourning takes time. And there's a lot of different ways to lose, and to mourn, for that matter. But just as there is no one "right" way to experience a loss, there is also no "right" time to get better. We heal on our own terms, on our own time, in our own ways. Some things hit us harder than others, but loss is also a universal leveler. We have all felt it. We all find our own ways to cope.



see the rock that you hold onto
is it gonna save you?
when the earth begins to crumble

why do you feel you have to hold on?
imagine if you let go

This becomes its own trap, too. Forming our entire concepts of self and identity, integrity, independence around one specific thing--when that specific thing goes away, be it a person, a religion, a job, whatever--it can be extremely damaging. Long term or short term, it's a hard blow, and it staggers most of us. This is also universal.

More than that, it can be almost counterintuitive--as long as we hold tightly to what's hurting us, well, it still hurts us, but we're familiar with it, right? No one can say they're precisely comfortable, but the terrain is understood, the terrain is known. Letting go...even if it saves us pain in the long run...sends us into new experiences, new shifts of consciousness, new understandings...at the very least, it moves us to somewhere new where we don't know all the landmarks.

This can be terrifying.



wash away
the weight that pulls you down
ride the waves
that free you from your doubts

Once we let go, though...once we accept that we can't be in control of everything, and we need to accept change, relocation, differentiation, reconsideration...Once we learn to adapt, to integrate...we may well find we're in a better place. I mean, jury's still out on whether I'm moving to a better place, but right now, I'm not so much clinging to the rock of adamant resistance as tunnelling under it at speed, trying to reach a place where the fire can't reach me.

Once I stop fearing immolation, I may be ready to figure out what happens next. Maybe.



wash away
the weight that pulls you down
ride the waves
that free you from your doubts

It's all evolution, in a sense. If we can't change, we die out, and many have. We're all going to die anyway, that's the name of the game, but we don't have to cheerfully invite Death to our door. She's friendly and all, but come on, time for tea and scones later, right?

So...letting go. Which I'm past crap at, freely admitted. I have held so tightly to things I nearly have permanent half-moon cuts in my palms from clenching my fists to hold on. But this does not work, short term or long term. This is all about loss of control, more than fear of change. Which is ludicrous, when you think about it--the collared submissive is terrified of losing control.

Come on, now. That's high-grade irony, right there.



here comes the flood again
don't trust your eyes
it's easy to believe them
know with your heart
that you can leave your prison

So...that's the next step. Don't control things. Don't attempt to redirect conversations. Don't try to figure out the angle of approach, or descent, or predict the outcome. All terrifying. All necessary.

But especially here...because I'm already trapped in the monochromatic. I cannot hope for a possible if it leads to a positive--because no future is good while the present is bad. That sounds simplistic, and...it is, but the complication is, other people have things happen and shrug and say, well, maybe tomorrow will be better.

For me, tomorrow is vapor until things get better. It's a damaging mindset.

Hope. Acceptance. Allowing room for reality to shift in the direction it needs to go. This way lies personal growth, emotional development.

Me? There is no tomorrow until I get out of the fire. No hope. No acceptance. No growth, no development, only stagnation. And oh, good gods, a rabid half-ton of solid, choking fear.

So there's the issue. Let go of the need to control; let go of the need to direct; let go of the fear. Embrace the powerlessness. I am here now. Here is scary. Hear is hurting, and pain, and despair. Yes. But here is not only those things. There are bright spots. There are joys, small and large. The wandering Duke wandered by again for a while, for example. We got to spend some time face to face, talking, and I realized how much I'd missed that. In the midst of every sorrow, in the midst of all the fear, there was that bright, alive mind in blue fur.



don't trust your mind
it's not always listening
turn on the lights
and feel the ancient rhythm

So, perhaps the scariest statement of all: Everything will work out. Just give it time. Unclench my hands and breathe, sink beneath the waves if I need to. Let the waves move me where I need to be. Trust.

Gods, trust is terrifying. And again, irony, because I say that, while still trusting a great many people with a great many things.

But...let go. That's the lesson. Breathing air, breathing water, breathing fire--adapt to all of it. Trust. Trust that the right decisions will be made, that I will have the right information when asked, and be honest with myself and others. Commit to the fear of it, but acknowledge that fear. And allow people to tell me it's okay to be afraid, or the fear will pass, and believe them when they tell me this.

So simple. So scary.

So necessary.

Let go. Fall or fly, let go. Just...let it all go.

(Pictures taken at the Enchanted Isle of Mystery. Lyrics from Katie Melua's The Flood.)

tell the bed not to lay like the open mouth of a grave

(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 18th of July.)

(Additional: And why yes, I am making them march a bit with two entries a day. Too much waiting. Too much backlog. Let's go, already.)



express yourself, don't repress yourself
express yourself, don't repress yourself
express yourself, don't repress yourself

I admit, the blog notwithstanding, I have never been the poster girl for self-expression. I'm mostly the Before picture. But personal growth demands, and all that, and I have gotten better over the years. Because communication is vital. Far too many people ignore it, at their peril, and it always, always, trips me up when I forget how vital it is.


and I'm not sorry (I'm not sorry)
it's human nature (it's human nature)
and I'm not sorry (I'm not sorry)
I'm not your [b*tch], don't hang your [sh*t] on me (it's human nature)

Judgement can be just as damaging. Pick an area of American culture, I can virtually guarantee it's been distorted by the heavy anchor weight of Puritanical or Judeo-Christian beliefs. What (may have) worked then profoundly does not work now, and as Bobcat Goldthwait once famously said regarding the Constitution--"It's just a piece of paper, it can be changed!"



you wouldn't let me say the words I longed to say
you didn't want to see life through my eyes
(express yourself, don't repress yourself)
you tried to shove me back inside your narrow room
and silence me with bitterness and lies
(express yourself, don't repress yourself)

And I've dealt in all worlds with people who refuse to understand, out of fear, anxiety, personal dread, or peer pressure. You shouldn't charge. You shouldn't be non-monogamous. You shouldn't have an open marriage. You shouldn't have tattoos. The list can, and does, go on. I think worst are the ones who attack my practices, not because they think their own are that much better, but because they're deeply, bitingly jealous of my freedoms compared with the narrow, restrictive lives they've chosen.



did I say something wrong?
oops, I didn't know I couldn't talk about sex (I musta been crazy)
did I stay too long?
oops, I didn't know I couldn't speak my mind (what was I thinking?)

And there are places in this world, even in the US, where women are told repeatedly their place is to shut up and be a support structure for men. It famously happened on the national stage recently, when our current president, upset over judgments that had gone against him, railed at a press conference against the female Supreme Court Justices, saying that their place was not to speak loudly and make a fuss, but to sit down and shut up.

No one, except perhaps Kavanaugh, got to the Supreme Court because they weren't fiercely intelligent and skilled. Liberal, centrist, conservative, doesn't matter--and that's how the system is designed. We want the finest legal minds being the ultimate arbiters of justice, because that way we know it's being (mostly) applied fairly, (reasonably) impartially, and with no regard for personal agendas.

At least, that was the plan originally...



you punished me for telling you my fantasies
I'm breakin' all the rules I didn't make
(express yourself, don't repress yourself)
you took my words and made a trap for silly fools
you held me down and tried to make me break
(express yourself, don't repress yourself)

Wow, there are still StarGates around? Do they still work?

It's difficult for us to obey rules we don't know exist. How are we supposed to behave if no one informs us there are rules of behavior? But more important, how are we supposed to behave if our ethics conflict with someone else? Couple former friends of mine come to mind with the application of the Golden Rule, for instance--because if they treated everyone how they most desired to be treated, everyone would have a lot more rope burns, and in one case, a lot more scars. Not everyone wants that.



did I say something true?
oops, I didn't know I couldn't talk about sex (I musta been crazy)
did I have a point of view?
oops, I didn't know I couldn't talk about you (what was I thinking?)

At one point in one of my relationships, there were taboo topics, and it became difficult to communicate at all at certain points because so much was forbidden. Now, sometimes there are irreconcilable differences--I believe one thing, someone else believes another, and we cannot come to a decent compromise between the two positions. Fine. In that case, it generally comes down to 'Well, I disagree, but we'll table that for now."

But when it's hard to talk at all without brushing against one of those trigger beliefs, there are bigger problems in the relationship than simple communication.



and I'm not sorry (I'm not apologizing)
it's human nature (would it sound better if I were a man?)
and I'm not sorry (you're the one with the problem)
I'm not your [b*tch], don't hang your [sh*t] on me (why don't you just deal with it?)

And ultimately, that is the question, isn't it? So many people--mostly in the US, but I've also noticed this worldwide--would prefer to sacrifice freedom and personal responsibility for rules and bureaucratic control. Some people never grew up in homes that taught them how to stand behind their words, their actions, and so they grow to adulthood, have kids of their own, and the cycle of mistrust, fear, and anxiety perpetuates.



and I'm not sorry (would you like me better if I was?)
it's human nature (we all feel the same way)
and I'm not sorry (I have no regrets)
I'm not your [b*tch], don't hang your [sh*t] on me (just look in the mirror)

That's never been my issue, I have all the regrets, steeped in them over time. Small ones, large ones, small stabbing pains of memory's knife twisting on the recall...but...I lived through all of them. And for all I look back far more than I should, all of that got me here. Good or bad, it's what makes me...me. My flaws, my scars, my regrets, my successes, my understanding (such that it is at times)...all of it was foundational in who I am now.

This is not to say I celebrate my regrets. I wish often I had less of them, and not just that less had happened, but that they ate at my soul less. Hindsight is 20/20, after all, and sometimes, my outlook makes my past excruciatingly clear.



and I'm not sorry (I don't have to justify anything)
it's human nature (I'm just like you)
and I'm not sorry (wy should I be?)
I'm not your [b*tch], don't hang your [sh*t] on me (deal with it)

But I try to take responsibility where I can. I try to accept I make mistakes, and acknowledge them. I apologize when I need to, because the very worst thing, ever, is to say "I'm sorry you were upset" over "I'm sorry this happened". Or even simply, "I'm sorry." The first is dodging responsibility on a major scale, and blaming the other party.

Never do that. Because, if we can't take responsibility for our actions, good or bad, we're still children. And the whole point of growing up is to accept that adults have responsibilities, as well as freedoms, and to behave accordingly.

(Pictures taken at Satyr's Covert [owner was on when I traipsed through; while it is a fantasy sim, he says it's open, all are welcome to wander. He did recommend I take off my heels, so I did], Vana, Dawson Forest, the Secret Garden in Uba, Satori and Catena et Cavea. Lyrics from Madonna's Human Nature, which still has a fairly goofy video, but a great message above and beyond.)

oh, I'll build you a kingdom in that house on the hill

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



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

Wow. They have big rats in Athetis.

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

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



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

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

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

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



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

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

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

A certain incubus comes to mind.



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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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



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

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



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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

things ain't what they used to be

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

"Love fiercely. Because this all ends."
~Katja Luminos

deserves investigation
underestimation
against our inclinations
let ourselves in for it

That is one huge drum.

ignore the provocation
ignore the implications
ignore the obligations
let ourselves in for it

And back to wandering. What else is there?



are you gonna fall for this
we're gonna pay hell for it
now we can't wait for it
we let ourselves in for it

Another day, another sim, another struggle to process. I'm just rehashing everything at this stage. Maybe I need to go back and read the chat logs. Because I need that level of gut punch this week.

wild calculations
exert a fascination
tame speculation
we let ourselves in for it

But it may need to be done. The why is still bugging me. Or the when. Or...both.



wild calculations
exert a fascination
tame speculation
we let ourselves in for it

Right. Never come to the Sanctuary without heels; I apparently won't be tall enough.

are we sittin' still for this
we're gonna pay hell for it
now we can't win for it
we let ourselves in for it

Heightists.



we were bound to make the most of it
yes here's the best of it

I do find it vaguely interesting that most of the serious femdom places on the grid, especially the entirely women-centered ones, all seem to share the same template of sprawling manor house/castle, and carefully sculpted grounds. Is that just a thing every lesbian domme desires? Am I missing something?

let yourself in
any way that you figure it
got it at our fingertips
got to give in

Though this would explain why Sakura gets so many lesbians looking for other lesbians wandering through, if nearly every other manor house with a flower name is geared towards women-on-women domination.



wild calculations
exert a fascination
tame speculation
let ourselves in for it

I do wonder why the garden has tentacles. Not sure I'm up to finding out if they're active ones or just decoration, to be honest. Still far too jangled.

let's disprove the allegation
no longer occupation
this is recreation
get yourself into it

But it's a very pretty garden, nonetheless.



you're gonna fall for this
we're gonna pay hell for it

Don't we always? Someone pays for everything. Usually it's me, this time it seems to be both of us. And the coin is becoming very dear.

And my fingers are already starting to itch again. Not even one day in fur, and the skin hunger's back. Damn it.



now we can't win for it
we let ourselves in for it

If it was a rigged game from the start, would we have refused to play? Could we have seen this coming? I maintain no, because it was completely out of the blue for me the night it happened. And I'm usually the one reacting to conscious, subconscious, and unconscious motivations for everything.



let's disprove the allegation
no longer recreation
this is occupation
get yourself into it

I'm just so tired.

(Photos taken at Gaia Rising, Sanctuary of the Rose [very adult playspace], Thrall [also very adult], Auld Lang Syne on the Isle of Scotland, Fracture and Malal's Spring. Lyrics from Robert Palmer's Let Yourself In For It)

your eyes are like two jewels in the sky

{Decided far, far after publishing, this should probably be under the roleplay tag officially.}



I finally had an opportunity today to travel to the Isle Du Noir, and the Silhouettes Club. First things first: just as Jadida Mondrago presents a specific view of steampunk (post-Victorian Arabic, in their case), so Isle Du Noir does for dieselpunk--in their case, filtered through the view of a Caribbean port d'escale marchand, a home for pirates des Caraïbes, and interested others, contrebandiers, les commerçants, and simple travelers alike. A small, but significant, island nation.



Dieselpunk is intriguing on its own. One, because it's such a varied era setting--essentially, anywhere from the early 1920s to mid- to late-1940s, which covers a LOT of changes--socially, musically, in fashion, in representation--but that also means there's a lot of room to move when adapting to the era.



Of course, some never got the memo...I had to fairly significantly figleaf her, too, because head-on you could clearly see nipples and...other bits.

[12:32] Vxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx smacks her butt suggestively

Kind of clueless in more than one sense, too. Which...I'd normally ignore, because a) not my sim, not my rules, and b) it's intended, by everything I've heard, to be a sort of alternative adult playground...save for one thing. The sim's moderate. I am fairly sure nothing about Ms. V qualifies as "moderate".



There's not a lot of info on her profile to make that connection, per se,, but considering her SL bio implies heavily she was looking to become a high-powered lawyer and threw it all away for a dominant, I think I can read between the lines. There's also this:

"The only gift one can offer is its self. The last decision a true slave will ever make. To offer its self.
"This slave craves to be under total and full restrictive control as any true slave would. It's ability to communicate and act upon its own removed from its life. All communications, interaction and travel will be under the Dominant's control and observation. Plain and simple it is an object and property. It is to be respected and dealt with as any such, property owned by another."

Hoo boy. Okay, look. It's a wide world. There's a whole lot of ways to do a whole lot of things. I get that. But unless the sub knows their dominant very well, and trusts them completely...24/7 submission is so dangerous. And TPE, total power exchange, is a very easy way to explode relationships, personalities, self-esteem, self-worth... unless both parties know what they're doing.

And, at least in SL, I've seen dozens of subs--and a fair amount of doms--who say this is exactly what they want, when in truth, they have no clue what they're demanding.



And I won't lie, I've met some 24/7 sorts who seem very happy. Some have even completely depersonalized, so they're no longer Sally Smith from Albequerque, say, but 0171235, registered and ID-tattooed--or branded. (Note: that last link goes to a NSFW site, but more for the actual branding being shown than the nudity. Still, there is both, so it comes with a warning.) There's one lass I knew a while back who spent a consistent amount of time traveling between England, her home, and Dubai, where her dominant was--and every time she did, she traveled in a 100% covering, black latex burqa--frankly, the first one I'd ever heard of. And some trips, even that was not enough for her "owner", so he sent a handler to escort her back--because she needed one when she was traveling with hands cuffed together and attached by the wrists to her collar, and ankles cuffed together, attached to a six-inch chain.



That is far too close to places I don't want to go. She seems happy, and that's great for her, but...that's not something I can do. I will give a great deal of control to a dominant I trust, a great deal of access, occasionally levels of honesty my partners in RL don't always get...but I am always a person, I always have personal rights, and if they can't accept that, we can't function together as a D/s pair on any level.



I am not an object, and I will never be an "it". I don't believe any human should be. But...again, that's me, that's my take on things, and that's my issues talking. Maybe it's less about personality annihilation to those that engage, and more about freedom, but me...that entire end of things is terrifying.


Still, overall, it's a very pretty club, in a very pretty sim. And it was nice to see Ms. R again, though she's going by another name (and, to be fair, she pulled it off pretty well, for what was basically an Akasha cosplay). She's still an amazing DJ.



And I won't lie, I have been very tempted to get kitty feets for my daily avatar, but...boss-lady would not approve, so...I don't.

Plus, I'd lose the ability to wear shoes. And I like my shoes.

Ultimately, though, if you're interested in dieselpunk, piracy, era-based roleplay, or gentle villainy, this might be your island to visit. If nothing else, find out when the next event is at Silhouettes, because at the very least it's worth a look.