Finished up the Adventure Time finale and took that damn "Time Adventure" song like a punch to the gut.
There's just no going back and I don't see nearly enough going forward. I'm tired of guilt-riddenly miss-hating Kristy and Jessie. I don't know why I can't move forward.
I know there's nothing left there for me, and nothing I would still want at this point even if I could. I just wish I had at least been left with some option to go *clean up* that toxic spill--or some degree of concession that it wasn't 100% my fault or my toxins.
I wasn't even that happy those days. I was just SO MUCH CLOSER to the things I thought I wanted most in life, even if it was close in the same way Tantalus was close to food.
I thought I'd at least get a chance to recuperate down here, meet new people and find a crowd that could at least remotely offer the emotional intimacy I got, at the best of times, from the postfurries.
But instead I wanted straight into a year of isolation, and it looks like it won't be over anytime soon. I haven't even been given the *opportunity* to go out and fail.
And it ain't even the worst I've seen. Most of my old friends are in even *worse* shape, and I don't dare go back and try to suck any more of their energy out by trying to reforge connections.
I have the quietest damn life, a partner who's become almost unearthly in her patience and serenity, the best job I've ever had, a creative project with a lot of promise, and nothing better to do than enjoy them.
So why am I balanced on that knife edge between 24-hour naps and 24-hour screaming?