It was nice, and hard, and subtle...
she wrote the other day, for the first time in almost a year. a quick little note, that reminded me of a reality both of us wish to hold on to, and let go of at the same time.
a reminder that the love was real,
but the time was wrong,
and will never be right,
again...
a mutual feeling of surrender to circumstances beyond either of our control.
but it was so wonderful to realise that she CAN love. that she CAN trust.
why her father had to kill himself i don't think any of us will ever know, but the rift it sent through so many lives still echo's across borders. she wrote to tell me about driving across wyoming. it was as much a moment to tell about the beauty, as it was to remind me that she had seen her father, me, her new lover all in the crisp morning sun rising over the high desert frost.
i am so glad she is at peace.
she wrote the other day, for the first time in almost a year. a quick little note, that reminded me of a reality both of us wish to hold on to, and let go of at the same time.
a reminder that the love was real,
but the time was wrong,
and will never be right,
again...
a mutual feeling of surrender to circumstances beyond either of our control.
but it was so wonderful to realise that she CAN love. that she CAN trust.
why her father had to kill himself i don't think any of us will ever know, but the rift it sent through so many lives still echo's across borders. she wrote to tell me about driving across wyoming. it was as much a moment to tell about the beauty, as it was to remind me that she had seen her father, me, her new lover all in the crisp morning sun rising over the high desert frost.
i am so glad she is at peace.
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I wear the gas mask to glue layers of Lorica together. THe glue is hideous stuff with all sorts of mean warnings all over the container. I still have yet to get used to the mask, but it's better than being insanely high all day.
wow. your journal is really powerful i am honestly speechless about it.
xo annabelle