The state of things.
I think if anything happens to make me any more emotional, my chest will simply explode, and that will be that.
Part of me would be relieved, and part of me would be raging at the universe that I had to go right when I got Katar back.
That's what it's like, lately. The joy and relief of just seeing him again, being able to touch him and talk to him - and the pain and frustration of that thing still inside him.
Sometimes I just watch him and I get caught up in it. I can't stop looking. I'm afraid that if I turn away, he'll be gone when I look back again.
We need to get this thing out. We need it gone.
As if this wasn't all-consuming enough, those two vigilantes - the cloaked girls - skipped town. Gone to Russia, it seems. And I can't get ahold of Jason, and I haven't heard anything in a while, and - to be perfectly blunt - it's starting scare me.
For the moment, I just have to trust that he's got whatever it is under control. Or that he has other people in his corner who he can call on for help.
...and, gods, there's Beetle. I can't imagine this conversation ending well. Knowing him, he'll smile and tell me that hey, it's OK, I have to do what makes me happy, and it'll kill me because I'll know he's lying but what can I do?
I hate that I can predict how it's going to go.
I almost wish we'd gotten farther. Carried it through. Then it would be harder and I wouldn't feel guilty about not even really having to think about my decision like this. It's Katar. It's always been Katar. Ted knows that; that's why it would never work with us...
And there it is.
It's a good life.
But, oh, gods, does it ever hurt sometimes.
And the hope makes it worse. There's more anticipation, more fear.
More to lose.
More to gain.
((OK. So, things are kicking into crazy over here. Your patience is appreciated, and if I'm hard to get ahold of or if I take forever on something or if I appear a bit flaky, just bear with me, pretty please. 'Tis but a passing phase. Honest.))
Part of me would be relieved, and part of me would be raging at the universe that I had to go right when I got Katar back.
That's what it's like, lately. The joy and relief of just seeing him again, being able to touch him and talk to him - and the pain and frustration of that thing still inside him.
Sometimes I just watch him and I get caught up in it. I can't stop looking. I'm afraid that if I turn away, he'll be gone when I look back again.
We need to get this thing out. We need it gone.
As if this wasn't all-consuming enough, those two vigilantes - the cloaked girls - skipped town. Gone to Russia, it seems. And I can't get ahold of Jason, and I haven't heard anything in a while, and - to be perfectly blunt - it's starting scare me.
For the moment, I just have to trust that he's got whatever it is under control. Or that he has other people in his corner who he can call on for help.
...and, gods, there's Beetle. I can't imagine this conversation ending well. Knowing him, he'll smile and tell me that hey, it's OK, I have to do what makes me happy, and it'll kill me because I'll know he's lying but what can I do?
I hate that I can predict how it's going to go.
I almost wish we'd gotten farther. Carried it through. Then it would be harder and I wouldn't feel guilty about not even really having to think about my decision like this. It's Katar. It's always been Katar. Ted knows that; that's why it would never work with us...
And there it is.
It's a good life.
But, oh, gods, does it ever hurt sometimes.
And the hope makes it worse. There's more anticipation, more fear.
More to lose.
More to gain.
((OK. So, things are kicking into crazy over here. Your patience is appreciated, and if I'm hard to get ahold of or if I take forever on something or if I appear a bit flaky, just bear with me, pretty please. 'Tis but a passing phase. Honest.))