Well, after a lengthy hiatus, I'm finally back; I was in limbo for a while, after having moved out of my old place and waiting for the next become available. Now, I'm finally back here in Tally!

A lot of this turmoil was prompted by a breakup I experienced---long story, and probably not worth recounting now. It had technically been over for a while---since January, in fact. You never think you're going to get over "it" at the time, but you always do. Here I am, six months later, in pretty fine fettle.

I’ve been trying to find a fitting metaphor for losing love, and so far, I can probably best compare my experience with a wound that heals incrementally, invisibly, without your even noticing. (That whole thing about a watched pot never boiling: yeah, like that.) At first, the wound is traumatic and deep, a chasm, a hole right through the center of you. You keep examining it, prodding it, transfixed by its ugliness. It’s only when you start to look away that it starts to get smaller---or is that your imagination? No, it’s definitely smaller, right? That new skin around the edges, that wasn’t there yesterday, was it? More time passes, and you swear the wound seems to be getting smaller again, marginally, (fractionally), but still noticeable. What’s more, it no longer hurts as much, or at very least you’re used enough to the pain that you’re no longer as distracted by it as you once were. Eventually---and forgive me if I’m overextending the metaphor---the wound is covered up completely, a patch of new, vulnerable skin, a puckered scar. One day, you even have trouble finding it. Was it here or was it there? It takes a second or two to locate it: oh, there it is, still there. Then one day, a day you never imagined would arrive, you have trouble seeing it at all, a patch so faint and ghostly you have to wonder, was it ever there at all?

Uh, yeah!

Well, after a lengthy hiatus, I'm finally back; I was in limbo for a while, after having moved out of my old place and waiting for the next become available. Now, I'm finally back here in Tally!

A lot of this turmoil was prompted by a breakup I experienced---long story, and probably not worth recounting now. It had technically been over for a while---since January, in fact. You never think you're going to get over "it" at the time, but you always do. Here I am, six months later, in pretty fine fettle.

I’ve been trying to find a fitting metaphor for losing love, and so far, I can probably best compare my experience with a wound that heals incrementally, invisibly, without your even noticing. (That whole thing about a watched pot never boiling: yeah, like that.) At first, the wound is traumatic and deep, a chasm, a hole right through the center of you. You keep examining it, prodding it, transfixed by its ugliness. It’s only when you start to look away that it starts to get smaller---or is that your imagination? No, it’s definitely smaller, right? That new skin around the edges, that wasn’t there yesterday, was it? More time passes, and you swear the wound seems to be getting smaller again, marginally, (fractionally), but still noticeable. What’s more, it no longer hurts as much, or at very least you’re used enough to the pain that you’re no longer as distracted by it as you once were. Eventually---and forgive me if I’m overextending the metaphor---the wound is covered up completely, a patch of new, vulnerable skin, a puckered scar. One day, you even have trouble finding it. Was it here or was it there? It takes a second or two to locate it: oh, there it is, still there. Then one day, a day you never imagined would arrive, you have trouble seeing it at all, a patch so faint and ghostly you have to wonder, was it ever there at all?

Uh, yeah!