A crooked house.
Originally uploaded by Nix Sidhe

Today is a very strange mix of a really great day and a really crushingly sad day.

I woke up in my new (free) grown up bed. New clean sheets and a softer than soft mattress topper to make it excessively comfortable. I had two purring cats lounging completely across me. The early morning sunlight was just starting to permeate my room. Quiet house. Quiet Sunday morning. I had tea. Listening to music turned down so low I almost strained to hear the trumpets and piano notes over the birds outside. Pure, uninterrupted, solitary happiness.

I went on usual Sunday-adventures with Michael. Fleamarkets. Coffee. Art store. Music. Driving w/ the windows down and my feet on the dashboard. He went home and I spent my early evening drawing and listening to music in my room/watching movies on the roku in my underwear.

As I was sitting here though I felt something wash over me. Just a sadness, plain and simple. That sort of melancholy that grows when you know that you have to tell someone that you can't see them again. That you can't be their friend. What a terrible sickening fucking feeling. I don't know how anyone can say those things to another person they care even a little bit about and not feel like shit.

The last 3+ weeks have been a tug of war inside my head and my heart. I was doing my best to not allow any sort of sadness take over my day to day life by staying busy, being social, and drawing with every single spare moment I had. I couldn't allow myself to slow down too much. Just like with any other sort of emotional repression the moment you allow yourself to breathe it comes flooding back and crushes you under the waves of emotion you lied to yourself about.

Today was that day. I sat here in my computer chair with Tibby curled up in my lap reading a poem and sobbing. If I wasn't so stoic in front of other people, I might have tried to talk to someone or asked a friend to come over. It's not the sort of thing I have ever done though.

I just don't want to end up bitter over all of this. I don't want to allow this to make me callous or mean, but at the same time I don't feel anything even remotely like the desire to let another living human being close to me that way again for quite some time.

I feel drained and deflated. I feel standoffish and closed up tight. I feel quiet as a tomb. Only slightly worried that I also feel relieved.

"You had a way so familiar but I could not recognize because you had blood on your face and I had blood in my eyes. But, I could swear by your expression that the pain down in your soul was the same as the pain down in mine."