No Matter How I Try To Convince Myself, This Time I Won't Lose Control, One Look In Your Blue Eyes And Suddenly, My Heart Can't Tell You No
A wise man once said that life is war and sometimes the casualties are everyone you've ever known. The truth, sad as it may be, is that I'm not destined to have people in my life for lengthy periods of time. While I cannot entirely shift the blame away from me, there are moments where I truly believe that such is my lot in life. I'm simply not someone who suffers friendships or relationships for any durable amount of years or even months.
Toby is no more--at least not in the way I'm accustomed to knowing her. While I cannot say she died, for all intents and purposes she ceases to be somebody I can reliably count on or consider friendly to me. If life really is a war I'd have to consider her an enemy of the state and all subsequent communications between us as unabashedly hostile.
I doubt you'll be seeing her any longer. I doubt you'll be hearing her perspective on anything contained here within. It truly is the end of an era.
For all of you asking why nobody has been posting here recently, that's the only explanation I can give. Lucy kept suggesting that I get back on the horse, as they say, but my heart just wasn't in it. It would have been lying to say that any other topic was relevant to me. It would have been awkward to say that there wasn't so much going on in the world that I wanted to relate to as much as I wanted to discuss in detail as what was going on in my own heart.
I was recently reading a post on opu.net where the lovely Jewel Staite related how she had been going through the process of a divorce from her husband. What she wanted to get across was the fact she wasn't relating this change in her status to elicit sympathy. On the contrary, she was relating the news in order to convey how, yes, her living conditions had changed and to explain a somewhat noticeable absence from her writing. Such is the same message that I'd like to get across as well. I mean--I've been hurt before. This brand of heartache is a particular favorite of mine. And I don't believe it shall be the last time my sadness shall get the best of me. But I also know that, contrary to what others might think of me, I don't always to devolve into obsessing over the same old troubles I possess. I believe that three or so months to clear my head in private is sufficient enough to have done just that.
I still have lovely praises to shine upon the original Miss Frisson. The time for name-calling and admonishments had quietly passed on like a ship sailing in the night. There will be no incidents. There will be no rants. There will be no tirades against her. What there will be is the unspoken hope that someday hers and my path shall cross someday, and I will leave it at that.
Because as much as I'd like to hold this tear between us against her, I just can't hold that bitterness in me any longer. Not any more.