(no subject)
I missed updating this. I think with everything that has happened, I forgot all about its existence. But no matter. I am back and I have to tell what happened since then, and I hope I won't take too long.
First of all the stay at Solitaire's home was wonderful. The eight of us, Solitaire, Richard, P.B., Deacon, Jam, Serra, Jake (did I forget to mention Jake before? He's a close friend of Solitaire who joined us for a few days then had to leave Monday along with Richard and I.) and I were all over the place and town, on bicycles, on foot, on a car, on every form of transportation invented by man, it seems. The bitch queen wouldn't come with us, saying we were such rustics. Well, we were fine with it, who said we wanted her around? If we did go out on something she could go to we used her state of pregnancy as an excuse to keep her out. It was a mutual decision, everyone simply felt oppressed with her cutting remarks and insinuating suggestions, most of them directed to Solitaire and me. And this while we were being so careful about not flaunting who we liked. Richard was at first uncomfortable having me around, but I didn't do anything to overstep his private space, and he slowly warms to me, taking me for a friend. It was a time away from who we all were, and we reveled in it. Serra was our fairy princess, we doted on her every wish.
It felt like childhood coming back on us, as we wafted about in a world that held its own magic. I love Solitaire's home. We could lose ourselves for hours as we explored it again, knowing which way leads to the garret, to the unused halls perfect to play out mock battles. Jam had one day challenged me to see how rusty I have become when it comes to fencing, and they all sat on the window ledges while we parried, counterparried, and fought all over the length of the hall. It sparked a fencing madness, and we practiced, even teaching Serra the rudiments of the art. And always tea afterwards, music from P.B., Solitaire, or Jam. P.B. has a beautiful voice, while Solitaire would play lost in the music. Too bad he cannot be a musician. His father would disown him if he became a musician. There is no money in that line of work, he would say. So Solitaire is locked in a limbo of performing for those people who could appreciate his music.
Thank you, Solitaire, for giving me a chance to relive something I will never have anymore. I think you sensed that we need this respite from harsh realities, and you hurried to comply. You caring friend you. I will not forget this. I owe you so much already.
Unfortunately, we had to leave Monday, Richard and Jake and I. Fairchild drove us back, and we talked like old friends. Richard promised to come over for dinner one time, at ease with me. This promise is the only thing I am living for as I go through life again. I've been to see A, to see Grantaire, to go to the clubs. It was different now, a part of me is insulated from the sadness. I despair to see Grantaire and A together, A is doing everything to stop Grantaire from loving him. It's such a simple thing, to love. Why couldn't he? Afraid? Why must he be afraid of love? Maybe I'm letting myself become too involved with their problems again. I'll simply retreat to the haven of remembering the time I had with Richard so close.
I wish he'd just call. At least a tangible proof that the week together was something more important. I know he might be busy, but let me have a moment of selfishness. I have so few of them, at least. Oh well. I have poetry to keep me company.
First of all the stay at Solitaire's home was wonderful. The eight of us, Solitaire, Richard, P.B., Deacon, Jam, Serra, Jake (did I forget to mention Jake before? He's a close friend of Solitaire who joined us for a few days then had to leave Monday along with Richard and I.) and I were all over the place and town, on bicycles, on foot, on a car, on every form of transportation invented by man, it seems. The bitch queen wouldn't come with us, saying we were such rustics. Well, we were fine with it, who said we wanted her around? If we did go out on something she could go to we used her state of pregnancy as an excuse to keep her out. It was a mutual decision, everyone simply felt oppressed with her cutting remarks and insinuating suggestions, most of them directed to Solitaire and me. And this while we were being so careful about not flaunting who we liked. Richard was at first uncomfortable having me around, but I didn't do anything to overstep his private space, and he slowly warms to me, taking me for a friend. It was a time away from who we all were, and we reveled in it. Serra was our fairy princess, we doted on her every wish.
It felt like childhood coming back on us, as we wafted about in a world that held its own magic. I love Solitaire's home. We could lose ourselves for hours as we explored it again, knowing which way leads to the garret, to the unused halls perfect to play out mock battles. Jam had one day challenged me to see how rusty I have become when it comes to fencing, and they all sat on the window ledges while we parried, counterparried, and fought all over the length of the hall. It sparked a fencing madness, and we practiced, even teaching Serra the rudiments of the art. And always tea afterwards, music from P.B., Solitaire, or Jam. P.B. has a beautiful voice, while Solitaire would play lost in the music. Too bad he cannot be a musician. His father would disown him if he became a musician. There is no money in that line of work, he would say. So Solitaire is locked in a limbo of performing for those people who could appreciate his music.
Thank you, Solitaire, for giving me a chance to relive something I will never have anymore. I think you sensed that we need this respite from harsh realities, and you hurried to comply. You caring friend you. I will not forget this. I owe you so much already.
Unfortunately, we had to leave Monday, Richard and Jake and I. Fairchild drove us back, and we talked like old friends. Richard promised to come over for dinner one time, at ease with me. This promise is the only thing I am living for as I go through life again. I've been to see A, to see Grantaire, to go to the clubs. It was different now, a part of me is insulated from the sadness. I despair to see Grantaire and A together, A is doing everything to stop Grantaire from loving him. It's such a simple thing, to love. Why couldn't he? Afraid? Why must he be afraid of love? Maybe I'm letting myself become too involved with their problems again. I'll simply retreat to the haven of remembering the time I had with Richard so close.
I wish he'd just call. At least a tangible proof that the week together was something more important. I know he might be busy, but let me have a moment of selfishness. I have so few of them, at least. Oh well. I have poetry to keep me company.