therightbastard

The sound of my phone telling me I had a new text used to make me feel like a happy little kid, a dozen times a day.

Now when it chimes at me, I don't care. I can actually note the lack of being thrilled.

It's regrettable that this is what we call 'healing', this process of closing doors. of shutting off the heat of having had hope in your heart.

But recently, the sheer level of sexual harrasment I've been receiving at my new job has been reminding me how nice it is to be wanted for being pretty and intelligent, rather than used simply for being there, and today I found a new poet to invite to my elegant internal dinner parties.

Soon, I return Home, and I begin to build a home, and a business, and an eventual, inevitable empire (even if only on a smaller scale, empire-wise). Because there has never been any doubt in my mind as to whether I will win, merely when, and 'now' seems to be sauntering down the road. And about damn time, too.

And tonight? Tonight I go out with charm in my eyes, and sharper claws than I've carried in a long time, and a heart as calm, silent, and cold as the sky.

Player in a world of peices again.