Over a Week
Apologies for leaving you all behind for a week.
Did I learn anything over that week? I suppose. Most were simple revelations that have been made before, re-realized until realization hits that these are all things pointed out before, simply forgotten for... Over a week!
I don't necessarily have anything interesting to talk about. I dreamt that I did, but I'm trying to come to terms with dreams just being dreams. It's a bittersweet thought. It'd be nice if they were more, perhaps a link that shows someone is thinking of me while I think of them. Not that I particularly want to think of them - I always wake up terribly sad and anxious and full of shame.
Well, in that regard, I did write my first ever unsent project post. Now you know, if you know, if you were, if it was, if it was seen. Many if's. I regretted immediately, feeling awfully selfish, but that's what happens when you have too much "I" thinking. Anytime I write, I only think of an ex's words at the time. I don't think they'd want me referring to them that way -- After all, they thought that, somehow, I was only ever trying to get close to them. Instead of being the 13 year old attempting to escape (un)seen, (un)known dangers I was. This is the only grudge I'll hold, and I wouldn't be if they never decided to victim blame me to -- you know what? Nevermind.
Anyhow. Evidently, I'm enraptured with "I". It's a bad habit. Working on it. But it's a constant war, this soul is a being of Super EGO after all. Still, attempts are made. That's better than some others.
The past has already been gone over, but the other night Hylia appeared in the nightly mindscape I retreat to. My dreams are tactile : It felt sour and bitter and angry and sad. Not on the dreamer's end, but rather this apparition of her. This madwoman was reduced to a young girl with metal in her mouth, hair up in pigtails, and the worst nail biting anyone did see. Tart is the only way to describe the taste upon my tongue in that dream. It was set in the past, in a supposedly happier time. And then it melted and shifted into a showcase of her outbursts. A reminder.
I didn't leave her. I think about that often. I would not have left her either. She had chosen to leave me -- for the most childish reason in the world, at her big age of then-19 -- and all I could do was accept it. I thought she'd come running back in time, I thought it was like all our other arguments, I'd apologize, she would as well through gritted teeth, and then she would shower me in twisted affection while I was unsure how to reciprocate. I think of her birthday often. Unfortunately close to that of my solace's at the time -- my dearest big sister, victim of her maelstrom as well. I'm glad I still have my big sister.
I thought it would be the same. Evidently, it wasn't. It's been over two years and I'm still not quite used to not having her around. I want to apologize again, better. For making her feel second-place, for not being as loving as she'd like, for not listening, for breaking her trust, for no longer thinking of her when I see Yato or Kyo.
I still get sick when I think of Owari no Seraph -- The first time I ever felt rejected by her. I still get sick when I think of Samatoki -- The first time I felt the harshness of being ignored by her.
I'm moving, still. Constantly. My soles get more worn every day, just as my soul does. It's been over a week since I've started walking. Or has it only been a day?