'til you learn with age what you can’t do and then try and make a change

Eerie Aquarium's take on depression is hauntingly accurate. Some of the other conditions fit, some don't, but I get the concept. And yeah, being neurodivergent is terrifying at times. NSF...brains? Disturbing content, definitely. Touch of body horror? Mild gore. Soundtrack-induced dread?

Also, as an aside, since the last post was political, let's carry on:

Creator @bekahdayyy has put together a point-by-point refutation of anyone in your life who says they voted for Donald Trump because of their Christian faith. It's not about faith, it's about power. If you're in the position to be attending Thanksgiving, Christmas or other holidays with family and friends who voted for the orange loon, maybe print this out to answer any questions they might have.

But it's not just about the policies. Project 2025 is a comprehensive document covering many areas the writers seek to "improve". Among them:

• Defunding the Department of Education, including Pell grants for college, striking down special education programs, and taking all further education and schooling for children to pricy private (many religious) schools.
• Defunding the Affordable Care Act (also known as Obamacare, and ACA, yes, it very much IS the same thing)--which will also include Medicare and Medicaid being cut by 90%, and removing all prescription price caps (including Biden's $35 cap on insulin. Also of note: food stamps will be taken from 93% of all Americans currently involved in the program.)
• No-fault divorce will be banned nationwide, leaving many women stuck in abusive situations to be battered, severely injured, or even slain.
• Another plan that will kill women is their purported federal abortion ban, allowing zero exceptions for rape, incest, or fetal malformations and the life of the mother.
• Try this one on for size; Dismantling the Marriage Equality Act and federally ruling that marriage can only take place between a man and a woman. Women will also, under the new ruling, lose their independent rights to separate financing, owning property, or--should the unlikely divorce be granted--their own children. and let's not forget, the Marriage Equality Act also insures that interracial marriage is protected. So that will be struck down as well. Guess Clarence and Ginny Thomas are splitting up next year.
• How about the rights of workers? They won't have any. Employers will be free to break up unions, to no longer offer overtime, to fire employees for any reason without fear of repercussions. And federally, employers will no longer have to worry about displaying bigotry or racism--they'll be free to make their workplaces as white as they wish.
• The military, and likely ICE, will be deployed to enact mass deportations. Far as I understand, the procedure will be arrest first, ask questions later--if at all. And let me quote from the document directly, as she put it so well:

  "1 in every 15 families is of mixed documentation status. American citizens will be subject to deportation if they have a family member living in the home undocumented...Denaturalization of immigrants who have received citizenship will begin. DACA will end. Our Asylum Program will be dismantled."

• This is a fun one--since Homeland Security was created as a bureau, the police already were partially militarized. But after Trump takes office? Police officers will receive prosecutorial immunity and be further militarized. Checks and balances on police overreach? What are those? Oh, and racial discrimination? Prepare for that to come back, in spades, as they receive a mandate to gun after anyone not white and conservative.
• Trump, through Project 2025, will give reparation to victims of discrimination...but of course, only the white ones. The plan is also to weaponize the Department of Justice to go after teachers, professors and alumni in colleges that practice diversity, equity, and inclusion (the dreaded "DEI") and fire them. Then tear down the colleges themselves, especially black ones.

Do I need to go on? Because I can go on. This document covers the appointees Trump is planning to push through, as well, and some of them are just as reprehensible, racist and lacking any skill sets for the positions they'll be taking over, as their chosen convicted felon is.



So, for anyone still reading along who voted for Trump? This is why I'm not interested in you being part of my life. We already had four years of him, when he was basically a gleeful, wheezing toddler with a hammer, breaking structures and yelling for hamburgers. He managed to put a tidy sum of money into his pocket from YOUR from being president those four years, too, or didn't you catch that he was charging the Secret Service hundreds of thousands of dollars to rent rooms in hotels he owned?

And you voted to put him in power again. I know there will be members of Congress fighting against his despotic desires, but he has said, multiple times, to multiple Cult 45 members, in multiple cities, that at the very least he plans to:

• Destroy education as we know it from kindergarten to college
• Ban teaching ANYTHING about African-American history; Japanese histories of children growing up in camps instead of houses (even though many Japanese-Americans during WWII were born in the US); anything about the contributions people of color have made to this country through invention, innovation, scientific, medical, legal and political advances; any reference to the near-genocide and seizure of land for indigenous peoples--essentially, anything that might hurt poor white peoples' feewings
• Destroy Medicaid and Medicare (so there goes my insurance)
• Destroy Social Security (and there goes my ability to pay rent)
• Destroy the Affordable Care Act (so there goes one of my love's insurance)
• Set high tariffs against countries he currently dislikes, which will drive the cost of EVERYTHING up (or didn't you realize what tariffs actually do?)
• Destroy the Veterans' Administration entirely (so there goes my other love's insurance, since she's a veteran)
• Remove responsibility for womens' medical care and bodily autonomy (and as a woman, I kind of take that personally)
• Remove marital rights guaranteed to men from women (and this alone, even were I not happy with the loves I have, would ensure I'd never marry), essentially starting the process to make them American citizens with reduced rights;
• Restrict food stamps to the narrowest possible sliver of citizenry (so, hey, I guess I don't need to eat anymore, right?);

--and AGAIN, I COULD GO ON--



Is it sinking in yet? Having any regrets on how you voted? Because I'm hearing that a lot, too--that Trump voters "didn't really understand", or "didn't know" he was proposing to sink so many ships. And for me, I mean, great, you have seen that your cult leader may not be precisely trustworthy, but COULD YOU NOT HAVE COME TO THAT CONCLUSION BEFORE VOTING FOR HIM?!??

But that's it. End of rant. I refuse to trust people who voted for me to starve, get sicker, or outright die. Just because the price of eggs went up. Oh, babies, just WAIT until the 200% tariffs go into effect on Chinese imported goods, or Mexican imported fruits and vegetables, and you'll be having to choose between paying rent, or buying a new skirt. Paying for necessary medical equipment or prescriptions, or buying a bag of apples. No more. No. More.

the ruins of the day painted with a scar

I didn't go through a single haunt this year. It's strange to say that. I have so many things to review, and I've missed the events they were at for all of them. I regret that. And I have so many drafts I wanted to go through and post. I still might, but...there are more important things to do.



Listen. If nothing else, this has proved unequivocally that half of the United States still thinks women aren't people.

The forced-birthers won. The COVID deniers won.
The religious extremists won. The anti-vaxxers won. The anti-maskers won.
The climate-change deniers won. The prosperity gospel churches won.
The QAnon conspiracists won. The MAGAt cultists won.
The tech bros with frat-boy mentalities won. The NRA won.
The anti-feminists won. The Trump-as-Messiah worshippers won.
The neo-Nazis won.

It's morning in Gilead. This is who we are. But this is not who we have to be. I do not intend to subside quietly until the jackbooted thugs come to carry us away to the camps. I am who I am yesterday, who I am today--bisexual, Rökkatruar heathen, polyamorous--and I am not going to hide.

And if you're friends with me, or if you're one of my loves, and you voted for Trump--don't tell me. Or do, so we can break it off clean and walk away from each other. That is my line in the sand. Because if you voted for him, you voted for dozens of hate groups behind him that want to make this a theocratic dictatorship. You voted against every LGBT+ person in your life. You voted against anyone who's trans in your life, whether they've come out to you or not. And ultimately, you voted against everyone who shares my gender.

Is it sinking in yet? More women will die with a locked-in federal ban on abortive and prenatal care. Anyone who's not white has a very good chance of being attacked in the streets, arrested, deported, whether they were born here or not. Separating children from their parents at the border will likely start up again..not that it actually ever stopped, but there has at least been an attempt to reunite families post-Trump...Mandated church attendance? They could do that. I know when we were living in a very frightening small town, we were told to pick a church and go to it faithfully--because otherwise, we'd be considered Satanists and they'd shoot us.

These were cops saying that, by the way. I believe the exact quote was, "Well, ma'am, then we'll come back, help you both into a truck, drive into the scrub, and put you to sleep."

Is it sinking in yet? Trump is talking about putting a man with a partially-devoured brain in charge of women's health. Musk he's lined up for a new department, one called "Efficiency", where he'll kill any program he deems as wasting too much money. You know, like he did with Twitter--oh, sorry, I mean X--when he fired the entire coding department and suddenly, things started breaking down. Such a mystery.

He's talked about removing the FDA, the Bureau of Education, killing school lunch programs, loosening the clean-air restrictions so factories and corporations don't have to go by the keeping-people-alive programs. He says he'll fire every civil servant on the government's payroll, and replace them with his hand-picked people. He's enslaved now to special-interest churches who seriously believe that Jesus won't return until every tree is cut down. He wants no separation between church and state. The Supreme Court, formerly a panel with--at least supposedly--the most well-educated, well-versed in law, judges and lawyers...is essentially in his pocket.

And all of that is assuming he lives for the next four years. It would be so easy to be one of those "best people" close to him and just--help him to stop breathing. And then we'd have President Vance.

Trump is the first convicted felon to hold a high office. He's been convicted for fraud, embezzling, sexual assault, attempting to overturn the government...Is this really the caliber of man we want leading the country? Essentially an emotionally stunted sociopath, clearly and obviously sliding into Alzheimer's, who golfs more than Obama did, who keeps a list of people and groups that were mean to him so he can penalize them directly...this man is not presidential material.

"But oh, she supports Israel...oh, she isn't left enough...oh, it's not the time for a woman president...oh, as a prosecutor she put a lot of people of color away..." Okay. Compare and contrast--someone who might reconsider at least part of her position if enough voters asked for it, versus...Trump. Who WILL further arm Israel, who plans to cut off any future aid to Ukraine, and may in fact start shipping ammo and arms TO Russia, for all we know.

IS IT SINKING IN YET??

I'm not hiding. And echo chamber or not, I'm just porting away from anyone who starts talking about how great it's going to be under Trump again. Or bouncing people from the Gearhaven estate if I'm there. I am done with tolerating the fools who think the next four years will be anything but greater chaos than he managed during his first four years.

I don't often talk politics on this blog, because I don't want to. I left Twitter a month after Musk took over, because I could already see it becoming a haven for every right-wing nut-job still gunning for the Obamas and the Clintons for being part of the huge underground child trafficking ring...which doesn't exist, which never existed, but hey, I could pull up a double dozen articles on Republican senators, preachers and business owners who were caught doing that exact thing. May I refer you to Matt Gaetz, for example? The DOJ was told to drop the case, but the civil and criminal charges are still pending. And he's far from the only one.



But that's it. You can go home now. Everybody out of the pool.

Or go here and do some good.

NOW that's it.

I have tangled things thoroughly, and I never meant to

Text of a card I just sent out to a love:

Sooo...I want this to be a short breezy capsule response, but...

Okay. Vague causes worry. So, I haven't fallen again, though there have been some near misses, but towards the end of Aprille there was a severe pain ramp-up. And I thought I could just wait it out, and then get back in touch with people.

And..Aprille became May. And May became mid-May. And pulling open the IM window so I can send this and/or talk to you...it's been over a month since I said anything!

I am so, so sorry. Yes, a lot of it can be attributed to just--head pain scatter, or concentration scatter, and I'm beginning to accept that these may be long-term things. But the bulk of it has been waiting--apparently in vain--for the pain levels to drop back down to...well. What I consider "normal". Normal it's not, but my usual state of ow-everything-hurts-why.

Along the way, I did talk my doc into a trial run of oxycodone. Unfortunately, I live in a town on the west coast that is considered "drug-seeking". I have done *everything* in my power not to have that label go into my file, up to and including taking the MOST conservative doses possible on new meds, and then ramping up--again, conservatively--on dosage if needed.

And I'm being insanely conservative with the oxy, too. I get 20 pills every time it's refilled, and if I took it according to package directions--"every six hours as needed for moderate pain"--I'd be refilling it every six or seven days. I'm only taking a pill when it's that or drink three cups of chamomile tea and go back to bed. And try to sleep.

But *all* of this is explanation, not excuse. I don't have one. I should have reached out, even if it was to say, 'hey, there's an incredible amount of ow, sorry I haven't been in touch'. I...well, as usual, I didn't want to worry people--which makes people worry more, and I really should connect the dots on those by now.

I love you. I'm sorry. Still working on the pain thing.

Em

there's such a sad love deep in your eyes

There are days we want clarity. There are days we don't get clarity no matter how hard we try. There are days that began before the night has finished, until all the hours blur into one, long, eternal questioning now.

Days when I want a final answer etched in stone, and discover that perhaps, just perhaps, I have the answer...barely traced onto fragile mayfly wings, held aloft on the slenderest thread of possible hope.

It's going to be a contemplative week.

But I tell you that to tell you this: I was planning more of a production for the latest group gift from /Vae Victis\, "Astros": a two-pack of specially-tinted Bannered horns. And thus I find myself with no plan in the Deep Woods.



This is the 'Gilded' version, no adjusting, no resizing, straight out of the box. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to muck about with these much, but as per usual with /Vae Victis\ offerings, they're fully modifiable.



And these are the other version in the box, 'Nebula'. Again, I just wanted to see them on, with no alterations. Time to adjust when the brain's less tired, I think.



All right, I fibbed--I wanted to see how they looked together. So this is the pair in 'Gilded' that I left on, and then a pair of the 'Nebula' that I shrunk slightly and repositioned lower.

They do seem to work together.



I may see if I can link them together so I have this adjusted two-horn look for later.

I didn't actually set the full-length view in a frame, for some reason...so I'll tell you to go look on Flickr, and the next paragraph or so will make more sense then.

The rest of the outfit is fairly simple--the Shiloh trousers in olive, and the Leesa blazer in olive, both from Erratic; the hair is the Yoko style, given out as a group gift from Ayashi; the shoes you can't see are from Bonbon, the "Misa Look" boots and stockings; the eyes are Inkheart's Feline eyes in Green; you might be able to find the Cavern Club eyeshadow pack at SN@TCH, I'm wearing the black--it's an old system layer, but a good one; and while you're there, you could look around for the Holiday Gloss lipstick pack, because I got that from SN@TCH, as well.

The skin, alas, is no longer available; it's 2015's "Noellia" in Apricot, given out during SEVEN's daily advent calendar that December. It is my default 'human' face, though. I'm rather fond of it.

And all of that is preface to this: these can be yours, yes, yours, for the low low price of joining the group. Yeah--these rich, oversaturated beauties are a thank you to his group members. I stand in awe.

Come join the madhouse, we only bite if asked. Though we do have a resident expert on Kamen Rider in the group, so those are always fun conversations.

Now you'll have to excuse me; I'm at the twenty-one-hour-mark for being awake, so I'm going to work on nonsentience for a while.

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.

don't get near me, I'll only sear your skin, in the state I'm in

And then, another night fell, a darker day dawned...



I am not at all happy to have you back.



I suppose I should at least thank you for the warmth...



It's been mentioned recently that I court my own destruction to reinforce my brand. Which is laughable, in one sense, but...I have based this entire blog on emotional pain. Am I truly surprised that it then keeps...cropping...up?

The question now is...how do I change that?



And I am so, so very tired...



Maybe I can push it back through the mirror. Think there's a chance of that?



In the meantime, this is where we are. Hagalaz, the rain of hail. The eye of the storm. Crisis, catastrophe, the emergence of the shadow to stain the light...The acceptance of the unalterable.

That's depressing.

Spun out to get here, spun out once I leave, the intensity for current pain inflicted, to ensure the lack of pain in future. And the chill in the air grows...Hagall brings it all to my door. With the tenuous hope of crops to feed the soul in future...if I accept the upheaval of now.

I never wanted this upheaval. But here I am again, anyway. Best to find more coal, the way this thing is burning.

At least one good thing happened today. It's something to smile about, at least. There may be precious little of that for a while...

these changing years, they add to your confusion

I still battle with being heard. I may always. I grew up in a quiet place that became a vacuum if I spoke, and after a while, I got used to the breathless suppression. I internalized it, and made it the only way to be.

I've been trying to vocalize ever since, trying to find the air.

And even when I do, it doesn't always work.



Two nights ago. Not quite drowning, not quite waving, somewhere in between. I just...needed...someone's arms around me, telling me it was all right, even when I knew it wasn't. I needed something concrete, something...expected.

Didn't get it, quite. Not that I'm surprised. And I sat back and watched things fall farther and farther apart, and couldn't find the words.

And when I did--when I actually asked for help--no one listened.



So, I'm bad at this, I know that. I made plans to shore myself up, remantle, refocus, rebuild my walls, whether I'm using them or not. And then he says, maybe there's a signal we can work out, for when your mood is--off.

And--of course there is, and it's probably even something simple, a word, a phrase, even a certain look--it could be done. Possibly easily be done. But...

That means access.



That's not just letting someone in briefly, then showing them back out, that's giving them a door in and making the choice never to bar it. That means...being open, and visible. That means being seen, even if just by one person.

And it hits me all over again--every time I think I'm growing, I'm healing, I'm living openly...something like this comes up. And I realize how much is still closed down, barricaded, blocked off, bricked over.



Now, I know some parts of me will never come to light. I'm actually comfortable with that. Even those closest to me, who've known me longest, don't know everything. There are things in my past I may never fully understand, and...after a lot of personal work, I've decided, I don't need to keep pushing for revelation.

It's notable enough that between me and my two cousins, spending several years being raised in the same house, we've discovered we have the same gaps in memory for the same exact times. And frankly, we're all agreed--we don't want to know.



But do I want the help? Yes. Do I want to let someone know when the mood's dipping to that extent? Yes. Do I want to let someone see beyond the social mask, see me for me, see the face I can't always perfectly control? That, I'm shying away from. That...is terrifying.

But maybe it's also necessary.



And maybe it's also time. If I can't do this, even this simple a thing--even so much as a code word to give the one who asked that additional heads up that things are going off the rails...then...why am I even bothering being in relationships with anyone?

If I can't walk even those few steps forward...maybe it's time to hang it up again and go back to the cabin on the mountain.



And I don't want to do that. Those I care for, those who care for me, don't want me to do that. And I have made it this far; I am not such a coward I can't keep going. It's been a life motto for some time, after all: it's okay to fall down, just don't stay down. Get up. Keep going.

So...I'll find the way to get up. I'll find the path to walk again. And...I'll let...at least one person know when I'm about to fall down. So that even if they're not close enough to catch me, they'll know where I fell.

Though...I have the strong suspicion that if I do this for one man...there's at least one more who'll want the same thing.

Being seen. I want it. I hate it. It worries me. I'm going to do it anyway.

Wish me luck. I'm going to need 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.

oh, feel our bodies grow, and our souls they play, yeah

This was an exciting day.



One day after Gearhaven launched, I dropped by the sim and saw something under the water. I sunk down through the waves and arrived on the little stairs leading up to the sealed door. I spun the wheel to open it, and...walked into memory.



So this goes back a ways, to when I first met Hiro. He'd dropped by work a few times, and we'd talked, and I thought hit it off, but you know how these things are.



Sometimes it's just friendly. Sometimes it's just flirting. Sometimes it goes nowhere, and sometimes...



Well, sometimes, you meet a blue-spotted cat on a steampunk sim who's rezzing out a laser shark for a tank in an underwater dance club.



And the rest is kind of history. Something just--clicked that day, for me. I have always been enthralled by watching what people build here, how they put prims together, what they want to bring onto the grid. I have literally sat and done just that, for hours--watched people build. I'm fascinated. I'm still fascinated.



And therein hangs a much longer tale, but just above the club, there's an open space? Hiro rezzed out the original laser shark. So wonderful.

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.)

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.