False Immortality

The last time I saw you physically, sister in spirit, we were at odds. We fancied we hated each other because we were so hurt and so unable to understand one another that we just foolishly chose to take as the last straw. How silly was I, such a child then, to hurt you so. I’m sorry, Nyssa. I’m sorry that we had to find each other in our pain, and that you were never able to be healed from that. I’m sorry that you can’t enjoy this moment the way that I can.

I have to believe you’re still around. The fact that someone could think the way you do, something was going very right and the universe doesn’t forget that. You’re still here, I can tell. We connected deeper than Otherkin, deeper than the occult studies, but it was hard to admit to until it was too late. It’s hard to let people in when you’ve been hurt like this.

Instead of focusing on the pain, I’m focusing on the joy you had for the little things in life, and I am taking this moment to spend thinking of you. Thank you for changing my life for the better.

There are always the pot-stirrers, the people who drive up near a car wreck to stare out the window like scavenger birds, and to you I have this to say: Preying on drama of any kind is hazardous and harmful because you don’t know what lies beneath the surface. Lots of things can hide in the dark.


~ by araelysia on July 7, 2013.

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