The winds roll over themselves across the icy lake and hit this house before anything else. I try to sleep, but dreams are of howls and thrown bodies and I wake to the low-rumble of a hum. The electricity is gone; the generator takes over. I wake to thoughts of you, pages of feelings buried deep in my heart. Unrequited love, it seems, foolish girl.
I wept like sad poetry last night. I avoid my bed because I know in that first moment of breath released, undistracred, I will lose control. You came to me like the winds rolling off the lake and my shoulders shake and I’m uncertain how I should be.
But the calm after the storm of tears is worth it, perhaps. I started a new book, and perhaps that was also a small reason of the crying–that I finished an unread book and I didn’t want it to end. Like us.
But how silly. How silly of me.
I will leave, and i may never come back. I made the decision after I let you go.
I think I will miss this place more than I ever have. I’ve grown quite accustomed to this life I’ve been leading over the past few years. I’d forgotten, completely forgotten, how comforting this sort of familiarity can be. A sort of solitude, just you and I.
Despite the feelings I still have for you, I do feel changed. Perhaps it’s for the better. Perhaps it will make everything more difficult. Maybe one day I will understand.
I wake up feeling empty, though. An unknown panic rises in me for no apparent reason. But I know that it has little to do with me. Perhaps nothing. And I suppose I should get used to that. For now.