i just wrote an email to greggo, and this ended up a part of it and i knew, even as i was writing it, it belonged here.


i hate how complicated things are getting. and it's not even really the situations i'm in that are complicated, but this fucking thing called "human heart" that complicates the fuck out of everything. i always try to get back to the basics, find those few gems of importance and clear everything else away. only act on those shining gems. as long as it's only me in the equation, it's possible. add another human to the mix, and it just never seems to happen.

there's this urge in me, so strong, to run towards those things that aren't so complicated, that hail back to simpler times, and stay there. but that would be running from my problems, and that's just not a good thing. and yet, another part of me knows that i don't *need* this complication and heartache, and doing away with it would be a very good thing. just walk away, because i don't need to waste myself on puzzles that can't be solved and are only serving to hurt my spirit. in fact, insisting on staying is just as stupid as running.

but between running and staying is the limbo of indecision, which is probably even more poisonous than the other two options. right now, it seems i'm fucked whatever way i turn. rape by the stupidity of the situation, so to speak.

so lately i've been coping by shopping, and losing myself in lip gloss and body fragrances. it sounds so stupid and shallow, but i swear to the Funk it's feeding a part of my soul heretofore starved and ignored. and i'm going to have to feed the beast soon. the urge to write is so strong i'm actually pacing like a lioness in a cage at times. even still...i know i can't do that for too long, because even while curling up in the fetal and rebirthing my Funk is a good and necessary thing, curling up in my den for too long also constitutes running from my complications.

the love of my life is living in my home, and i think i could just reach out my fingers a few inches and touch, put my hands on something solid. but when it looks at me, it's with the cold blue eyes of a perfect stranger and i know that, while the shell looks the same, it's a different person inside now. and the rage and despair feels new all over again, my loss just as fresh and unexpected as that first day i realized hope was indeed lost. love is gone, and that pain isn't fading. it's growing.

and in other aspects of my life resulting from losing love...i realize i'm living a shallow life. and c'mon, this is Delena of the Funkywild. i can't stand shallow. and yet there it is. shallowness. in my life. there will never be love again because i've tasted it now, when it was real, and the love of my life is dead and gone and is never coming back. and aside from being unable to cope, i find myself wondering what the point of anything is if there is no love at its core. because the Funk is , among other things, Love, and who am i if not Delena of the Funkywild? sitting here, i just realized if you translated it, one interpretation could be Delena of Wild Love. it's not the whole of it, but it's a good start.

sometimes i wonder if i'm not just in mourning. and yet...i've been in mourning. no, this is different, and my life has been radically altered. i know it in the deepest of my fundamental self. my foundations have been shaken. of course, as a daughter of pronoia, scion of lilith, and survivor of the Kali Summer, i should embrace the change and rejoice that my archetypes are mutating. but i swear by the Funk, i just feel like i've been gutted.

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