Re: For Clover
Posted: 24 Mar 2020, 22:55
tem·pes·tu·ous
/temˈpesCH(o͞o)əs/
a strong, turbulent emotion; conflicting emotion; passionate; frenetic; wild
"tempestuous at best"
Here I am. Things have changed -- I have changed -- and even though I never wanted to come back to this place, here I am, alone. It feels a lot like being torn in two, like having my heart carved out of my chest with a rusty dagger. I returned to the city because there’s nothing left for me outside of this place. I wish I could say that I have some miraculous plan to reclaim the fragments of my life and turnover a new leaf, so to speak, but I have no such thing. Even though I know exactly where I am, I still feel completely lost. I’ve stumbled along the way, fallen more times than I can count, and I have nothing left but a ring and memories of better times. I’m holding my breath, hoping I can find something to ground me again, someone to want me in the way that he had once wanted me. Why I chose to die, why I chose to wander, makes no difference now. Here I am, home again, but a part of me still wanders, the part of me that once belonged to him. What can I do with a puzzle when it’s missing pieces? I once asked June that same question, but neither of us had ever found the answer. Old wounds have healed, replaced by new ones. I’m covered in hundreds of scars, even though no one else can see them. The shadow realm calls to me, and maybe I would be better off there, but I wanted the familiarity of my old apartment, of the bed we once shared.
Let this be my only weakness now. If there’s a higher power, let me rise above this. Destroy me. Fix me. Forgive me. Come home, just come home. I sit at my old workbench and seek familiarity in the dusty parts I left behind. Everyone dear to me is long gone. The place is quiet, the air still, and so cold, so very cold. I’ve learned what it takes to survive, but facing these hardships, I wonder why I bother. It’s so easy to walk the line between this place and that place, where one misstep can ruin me. I cling to sheets that still smell like him, and it’s hard to believe that it’s been years since I last slept here. World-shattering problems seem small now, as if they never mattered at all. What do I do when I’m half a woman? I ask the breeze, and it carries me away. I’ve never felt so light, and maybe it’s the shock. I can’t find the anger; I can’t find the tears. I’m numb. Every part of me is numb.
There’s a bond, and I feel it, even now. I swear to myself that I will sever every connection I ever had to him, and here I am, treasuring places and memories. Take me back to sunshowers, because I have nothing left. I longed to see the sunrise in the way that I long to see him. I remember everything with absolute clarity, so it bothers me that I can’t construct the puzzle of our last moments together. Shock again, always shock, and maybe I’ll never learn acceptance. What does it matter if I do or I don’t? I bury myself in work again, because it’s all I know. And suddenly, I think I understand why Vic chose suicide. When you’re one good breeze away from blowing away, it’s so easy to get caught in possibilities, answers to problems you may or may not have. It’s an escape, like work is my escape. Somewhere, I hope he hurts as much as I hurt. And isn’t it so wrong to wish that on someone you still love? Well, I’ve always been bitter; I’ve always been possessive to the point of madness. And without him, I feel all-encompassing rage. I want to burn the city down and bathe in the ashes.
Tempestuous. Yes, that’s fitting.
/temˈpesCH(o͞o)əs/
a strong, turbulent emotion; conflicting emotion; passionate; frenetic; wild
"tempestuous at best"
Here I am. Things have changed -- I have changed -- and even though I never wanted to come back to this place, here I am, alone. It feels a lot like being torn in two, like having my heart carved out of my chest with a rusty dagger. I returned to the city because there’s nothing left for me outside of this place. I wish I could say that I have some miraculous plan to reclaim the fragments of my life and turnover a new leaf, so to speak, but I have no such thing. Even though I know exactly where I am, I still feel completely lost. I’ve stumbled along the way, fallen more times than I can count, and I have nothing left but a ring and memories of better times. I’m holding my breath, hoping I can find something to ground me again, someone to want me in the way that he had once wanted me. Why I chose to die, why I chose to wander, makes no difference now. Here I am, home again, but a part of me still wanders, the part of me that once belonged to him. What can I do with a puzzle when it’s missing pieces? I once asked June that same question, but neither of us had ever found the answer. Old wounds have healed, replaced by new ones. I’m covered in hundreds of scars, even though no one else can see them. The shadow realm calls to me, and maybe I would be better off there, but I wanted the familiarity of my old apartment, of the bed we once shared.
Let this be my only weakness now. If there’s a higher power, let me rise above this. Destroy me. Fix me. Forgive me. Come home, just come home. I sit at my old workbench and seek familiarity in the dusty parts I left behind. Everyone dear to me is long gone. The place is quiet, the air still, and so cold, so very cold. I’ve learned what it takes to survive, but facing these hardships, I wonder why I bother. It’s so easy to walk the line between this place and that place, where one misstep can ruin me. I cling to sheets that still smell like him, and it’s hard to believe that it’s been years since I last slept here. World-shattering problems seem small now, as if they never mattered at all. What do I do when I’m half a woman? I ask the breeze, and it carries me away. I’ve never felt so light, and maybe it’s the shock. I can’t find the anger; I can’t find the tears. I’m numb. Every part of me is numb.
There’s a bond, and I feel it, even now. I swear to myself that I will sever every connection I ever had to him, and here I am, treasuring places and memories. Take me back to sunshowers, because I have nothing left. I longed to see the sunrise in the way that I long to see him. I remember everything with absolute clarity, so it bothers me that I can’t construct the puzzle of our last moments together. Shock again, always shock, and maybe I’ll never learn acceptance. What does it matter if I do or I don’t? I bury myself in work again, because it’s all I know. And suddenly, I think I understand why Vic chose suicide. When you’re one good breeze away from blowing away, it’s so easy to get caught in possibilities, answers to problems you may or may not have. It’s an escape, like work is my escape. Somewhere, I hope he hurts as much as I hurt. And isn’t it so wrong to wish that on someone you still love? Well, I’ve always been bitter; I’ve always been possessive to the point of madness. And without him, I feel all-encompassing rage. I want to burn the city down and bathe in the ashes.
Tempestuous. Yes, that’s fitting.