alt_hydra | Order Only Private message to Dora

Order Only Private message to Dora

Have you been able to see Charlie yet? Or were you at least able to write? I hope he's doing all right.

If you want a distraction, maybe we could have tea together soon. With Bea and Adam too, of course. I think I would like that.

I've been wanting to talk about some things lately, I suppose, and with someone other than just Justin.

Plus I've always liked the tea you make.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Will any of us be able to go back?

Sorry, that's morbid.

The funny thing is that I can write that and not feel particularly bothered by it. I supposed that's what's changed. It's not as if I don't feel emotions anymore or anything like that, but I do experience them differently. They seem more abstract, or distant somehow. Unless something makes me cross, and then I seem to feel it more keenly.

I think that kind of dark magic - you use it to do awful things, so you're less affected by them as a result.

I still feel as if I'm not quite explaining it right.

And I suppose now I'm thinking about the other consequences that there might be, in the future.

I can see how it'd be almost protective to have that be a side-effect of things. Like it makes what you've had to do more bearable.

I wonder if it'll last, or if it'll change with time? My best guess is to the latter.

It's funny, what you were saying, it just reminded me so very much of Alice, actually. She was keeping me company while I was going spare waiting to hear about Charlie, and she was talking about how it was so hard for her to feel truly happy or satisfied about anything these days, and how much quicker she was to anger.

Anyways.

All of this stuff leaves a mark. And perhaps it stays with us for a good long while, and we have to sort out how to manage it as best as we can.

Maybe it's a blessing, not being able to go back. Having to move forward, I mean.

I think it is protective, in a way. It makes it easier to do really powerful, destructive magic. And when there's something that must be done, well - there it is.

I've thought about the baby, though. The one we lost. I didn't - I never really thought about it so much before. Maybe I wasn't letting myself. And now I wonder if I'll ever be able to have one, because of what I've done.

I didn't think I wanted kids. I'm still not sure that I do. But choosing not to seems different than not being able to.

That would make quite a difference, yeah.

I can see why you'd be thinking about it, because of that. And about the baby you lost. That's quite a lot of 'what might have been' knocking around.

Maybe that's part of what happens when you survive something you didn't think you would walk away from. And the fact that there's so much else up in the air doesn't help much, either.

I think it's understandable that you'd want to know whether you can or not, regardless of whether you want to right now. And that it'd be sort of terrifying to make it a certain thing, all at the same time, in case it closes off that particular choice absolutely instead of just wondering about it.