twiddle

[elionwyr]

It's difficult, living with a ghost.

Not in the ways you'd expect.  It's not about dishes breaking or lights flickering or the house creaking during the hours any respectable entity would realize are set aside for sleeping.

There is the excitement of knowing yes, this is real, you are not alone, she is here, and she is communicating with you in whatever way she can manage.  Love extends beyond fingertips and twisted, sweaty sheets.

That's the easiest part.

It gets harder when you introduce the outside world. No, you say to the invitations, thank you, but no.  It's too hard to leave when you're hoping for a glimpse of her. No, don't fix the broken things. She broke it, so it's holy. No, I can't explain. Or - worse - no, I can't stay, I have to go out, I'll be back, please don't cry.

And you don't want to be frustrated that she can't just tell you what she's thinking.  There are puzzles and games - words in the steam, whispers in your dreams.

She's doing her best.

Sometimes it's not enough.

You move through rooms lonely, not-lonely, knowing this is your choice, this is your life, this is what makes everything hurt just a little less.

In all of the ways Love makes an appearance, this wasn't one anyone could have warned you would happen.

Comments

[ysobelle.livejournal.com]

Oh. oh, wow. Ouch.

YES.

[elionwyr.livejournal.com]

:)