It's got a different name, it's technically only in the same family, a more sleep-inducing version thereof. I had fifteen when I left the hospital today. I now have 12.

Over-medicating.

But you know what? It's nice not to hurt. It's nice not to care. It's nice to listen to music and only hear the good side. After yesterday... I can use this. I need this.

I need a day where jumping off one of the towers downtown doesn't seem like a GOOD idea.

And amusingly enough, it's even a good day after a hell of a lot of fucked-up things. It's a good day even though there are people I'm reasonably sure would be better off dead. It's a good day even though most of my body feels like someone lit me on fire and dropped a cement truck on me.

Little tiny capsules. You wouldn't think they could make a difference.

They don't. They don't change life any.

But... they let me see a different part of it... and they stop me from thinking about the parts I despise.

So it all works out.

Small-town witch... it's a song by - who else - Sneaker Pimps. Listening to that, just drifting, thinking, talking right now with Neil and Daris (who doesn't update often enough dammit) and one of my boys, a delectable little cat who's amusing me nicely... drifting. Thinking.

Remembering.

Right now, honesty is invading my personal space, and all I can think about is that last night when I went out briefly, it was dark. Nearly full moon, clouds half-covering it. Dark. Sweet wind. Tang of salt creeping in from somewhere. I found myself praying for the first time in a long time, honest sincere prayers to a far-too-human femme. It felt...

...good.

Right.

That's part of why I keep remembering her, you see. Because it felt so damn right. Like it was something that needed to happen, that was meant to happen... not meant to be any more or less than it was. Just... there. Existing. Precious.

He... err, this he, calls me precious. He's the only person who can get away with it, really... somehow from him it means what I mean when I say it. It's another one of those things.

Little flashing moment-fragments, things that tell me that no matter how much it hurts, this is how life has to be. The look in Caleb's eyes in a webcam shot. The taste of blood when I'm biting my lip, aroused-frightened-amused. The feel of my back as it arches, music flowing, and my eyes return to the screen. The trembling hands. The tiny, half-heard moans. The frantic last-minute "wait" that spills out of hopeful and helpless lips. We are all made of stars...

Yeah, once again the music guides me. Tone to tone, body aching for a reality that is, perhaps, only really in my mind. All of this. Pain and pleasure, beauty and ugliness, freedom and bondage, the past, the present, even the future... minds.

If you ever get the chance, read "Catspaw" and "Dreamfall" by Joan D Vinge. Get drunk afterward, and come online and email me. *grins slightly*

This is my email to you. My letter extended, dazed and dream-sore and breathless, still aching, still sad... but... somehow... it's ok anyway.

It's ok.

Gods, it's so amazing to be able to say that and mean it.

Yeah... I know... this isn't really the most rational thing I've ever written. If I were smart, I'd be telling you about the weird stomach-numbing shit the doctor fed me, the strange almost-eros moment with a nurse who I swear looks like my aunt, the taste of chinese food while watching fish swim, sipping a White Russian, the latest updates from the doctor and naturopath, how much I miss my boys, what I'm wearing... normal shit. Reality.

Screw that.

My reality, here. The one I used to dreamspeak when I was curled up next to Angel, tracing ideas into the air and watching as her eyes lit up, listening as she broadened my vision until I could see a thousand forevers. I was sober, then... sober, sane as I've ever been. That girl was a trip.

Sometimes I wonder if she, or Alex, or Michael, or any of the other faces from my past, will ever stumble across this... ever read and understand. She... ehh. Human. Yeah. I know, I've heard, and yes, I can see her frustrated and drunk and all of that.

And it doesn't change my memories.

Doesn't change how deeply she existed for me, how completely.

Doesn't change ME.

...hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow, no tomorrow, no tomorrow...

...I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad...

I miss her.

I miss a lot of people.

Caleb, Kadin, Torian... those three I want HERE, now, or anywhere as long as we're together.

But... there are others. Friends, old friends and new, who I'd like to spend time with. People I've not seen in years, some of them. Faces I want to watch just once more, animated by laughter and excitement or pain and fear.

I miss them.

Nothing but stars... and they light my way.