July 29 -- Fix you
(( Soundtrack and one of Senkha's themes: Fix You, by Coldplay ))
Dear Diary,
I
I wish
He needs to do this on his own.
I wish I'd seen sooner. I wish I'd been there instead of so concerned about fixing myself. I don't think I'm strong enough to fix him, that's ten thousand years of fixing to do. But I could've at least
Maybe not.
He's broken. So broken. Why shouldn't he be? Wouldn't I be in that position if it was Oliver's body found? Wouldn't I be hollow and wasting away?
We're so alike. Too alike.
I'd go with him. In a heartbeat, I'd go with him. I'd follow him down whatever dark path he takes. I'd follow him until it was resolved. I'd follow him to the ends of the earth. I'd be whatever he needed until he didn't need me any longer. I would. I could. Maybe no one else is left who could so well.
But he doesn't want. He doesn't need. If I love him, I must respect that and allow him his distance, as he allowed me mine. This is the secret of such a shared madness: that the holes and imprints created by calamity can't be fixed by anyone else. Our minds are strong and stalwart, and we must allow them to work as they were meant to work. We must allow them to be pliable and change with the times, and for someone whose mind has remained as sturdy as an oak for ten thousand years to allow change is an enormous task.
And I can only do what I did last night: I can give him warmth and life, tell him that when the darkness fades (because it always fades), Oliver and I are here. We always will be.
When you stop moving, the world catches you.
He needs to not be caught yet.
Dad's found Alma, and I've never seen him this happy. She didn't exactly run into his arms for a tearful reunion (quite the opposite; from his telling, she ran the other way), but he's hopeful because even having her nearby enough to see is enough. I tried to convince him that he should take a bath and use Oliver's cologne, but I think the idea of a bath terrified him and he ran. But there will be progress soon, I'm sure of it!
-S.
Dear Diary,
I
I wish
He needs to do this on his own.
I wish I'd seen sooner. I wish I'd been there instead of so concerned about fixing myself. I don't think I'm strong enough to fix him, that's ten thousand years of fixing to do. But I could've at least
Maybe not.
He's broken. So broken. Why shouldn't he be? Wouldn't I be in that position if it was Oliver's body found? Wouldn't I be hollow and wasting away?
We're so alike. Too alike.
I'd go with him. In a heartbeat, I'd go with him. I'd follow him down whatever dark path he takes. I'd follow him until it was resolved. I'd follow him to the ends of the earth. I'd be whatever he needed until he didn't need me any longer. I would. I could. Maybe no one else is left who could so well.
But he doesn't want. He doesn't need. If I love him, I must respect that and allow him his distance, as he allowed me mine. This is the secret of such a shared madness: that the holes and imprints created by calamity can't be fixed by anyone else. Our minds are strong and stalwart, and we must allow them to work as they were meant to work. We must allow them to be pliable and change with the times, and for someone whose mind has remained as sturdy as an oak for ten thousand years to allow change is an enormous task.
And I can only do what I did last night: I can give him warmth and life, tell him that when the darkness fades (because it always fades), Oliver and I are here. We always will be.
When you stop moving, the world catches you.
He needs to not be caught yet.
Dad's found Alma, and I've never seen him this happy. She didn't exactly run into his arms for a tearful reunion (quite the opposite; from his telling, she ran the other way), but he's hopeful because even having her nearby enough to see is enough. I tried to convince him that he should take a bath and use Oliver's cologne, but I think the idea of a bath terrified him and he ran. But there will be progress soon, I'm sure of it!
-S.