It - my coastal visit - was intense. Whatever else I say about it, that's the most accurate single-word description. Every moment, intense.

Good? In a way. Bad? Same answer.

Intense.

I've tasted her blood and fed her mine. I've watched her body writhe, graceful, every inch of her shuddering for a moment and the knowledge that I was doing it, that it was my hand, my will... dominance becomes addictive, y'know. She'd given up so much, enough that I was lured deeper... and so when she wanted the reins back I fought. As did she.

Struggle for control... and it only ended when I broke something that she prized. I hadn't known it meant that much, I only knew that she'd worn it a lot and that it was something I could easily tear apart. I did. Warned her, made sure she knew where my hand was, that I was going to destroy it if she didn't back off... and she didn't. I don't bluff.

Still she fought, and as I tried still not to take the battle to the point of drawing blood, I'd only one other option. Didn't want it. Didn't like it. Hoped she'd say something, do something other than hold me down, anything to give me a reason to slide down, to submit. Even one word...

...and now a part of my soul is gone, disappeared. I don't know if it'll come back. I don't know anything, right now. I spent a day wandering the streets of a shitty little backwater coastal town, trying to think. I couldn't. Couldn't think, couldn't accept, and of the entire visit there are only two words that still sound in my head. Whatever else she said is gone. Whatever else I said is gone. Only those two words.

What is there to say for yourself at times like this?

...how have I let you down
I curse the day that I was born
and all the sorrow in this world...

I think that maybe if I'd managed to talk to her Wednesday... maybe things would be different. Instead of spending time around Orpheus and repeatedly trying to contact parents, friends, ANYONE human... if I'd waited outside her door...

*sighs* ...yeah. If I'd let myself fall back into that pattern, we might still be... whatever it is we were. If she'd come looking for me. If I'd gone looking for her. So many 'if's... and there's no point in any of them.

I've gotten out and I don't think I can go back... I know I won't go back.

...there will be
sorrow
no more...

The timing of this is good, in some ways. It happened not too long after my moment of truth, close enough that I can fall back on the Self I saw with such clarity that day. I am still me, no matter what the world throws in my direction.

I'm still me, proud and stubborn, strange and deranged, lost in music, focused on words, dreaming of a Heaven that is small, only for a few, a Heaven that I might have here on earth. I'm still me, kinky and twisted and weird and confused... and lonely, right now.

One of the few certainties in my life has disappeared.

I feel... hollow. I know the feeling will go away, I know it won't last. For the moment, though... for the moment there is nothing that could fill this space, patch my tattered heart.

*shrugs slightly* I'm sorry. Know that.

I'm gone.

(For those who don't know: I was supposed to be picked up from Angel's on Tuesday night to go stay with them until Monday, help them fix their computer, etc. However, weirdness happened and I ended up being picked up Wednesday night by Becca and Ryan. I spent Tuesday night and Wednesday morning sleeping in a strange man's bed, traded a sketch for a soda and a broken cookie, talked to a girl from way back when, found out that the street value of amatryptaline is $30 per pill, got m'self a sewing kit for my backpack, sang to a dog, petted a cat, and stared at the river for hours. *shrugs* So it wasn't all bad.)