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Vasaris, the Fuzzy Dragon
vasaris
.:: ..::. .::..:...... .::

March 2014
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Vasaris, the Fuzzy Dragon [userpic]
There are the days when it seems like there is only so much grief I can bear.

It's funny, because I don't believe for a moment that I have wasted any part of my life -- despite the fact that convention would say an unattached, childless woman of my age is intrinsically missing something. I have loved the people I have loved (this means you, dajagr, jon_leonard, and all of those from college (the Chrises, the Eric's (and Erik), Randy, and even Ruth, in her way), and you, chobits00_freya, and our dedicated group (with its paradoxical outliers because Ken is a *bleeping* vortex of geek we all orbit around with vaguely intersecting ellipses), and you, all of you whom I've never met in person but with whom I keep up quietly with, even if I don't comment.

With the exception of personal losses, which -- as expected -- have begun to age to bittersweet melancholy, I have little to grieve over. I have a good job that I enjoy even when I'm threatening to set people on fire with the power of my mind. It's possible that I enjoy it because of the sheer WTF-factor and fire starting tendencies. Threatening to light people, places, things, and ideas on fire is something I both enjoy and squarely blame my education for. No one can spend that much time around engineers without a fine appreciation of blowing sh*t the f*ck up. I am neither dissatisfied nor upset with my single state, and am generally content.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

Overpowering and unexpected grief hits me, and I don't really know why. It can be so overwhelming that Her Serene Imperial Highness, the Grand and Glorious Fuzzy Butt, Bella Purrabella of the Evil Purring Stare that Hints at Demon Posession will sit with me and bat at my hands with her head and paws as if to say "There's nothing to be sad about when I'm here to be molested (and why aren't you molesting me?)"

And I cannot find an answer for myself. It's time of year (I still miss you, Mom, even if I rarely think of Dad's absence) and sometimes just the faintest trickle of memory. Sometimes, it's realizing that for all the "I love you"'s I've spoken I'm not sure I've said them to everyone who deserves them.

So... I do love you guys, even if I don't address you often, or remember to comment -- even if you don't. Even in this limited format, without real contact, you have meaning to me.

Current Location: Home
Current Mood: melancholymelancholy
Current Music: None, I should rectify that
Comments

Some days are like that, yeah. I find that reading sad stories sometimes makes me feel better. (And as you point out, having friends helps a lot.)