ivare enim euge
If you asked me to explain just why I feel so down, I’d be hard-pressed to answer.
It’s not like we had anything that couldn’t be explained away as reasonably close friendship, plus a few silly misunderstandings on my part (but perhaps that is precisely the painful thing, because it’s so easy for me to fantasise and confabulate). Nevertheless, one thing you can say about me; I know a good thing when I see it and I don’t hesitate.
I think the scary thing, for me, is not being able to distinguish loss from ennui, from limerence, from desire, from…
The past two years have really been kind of rough; the amount and variety of emotional damage I’ve taken, I must say, has left me more vulnerable than average.
What really sucks is the inability to cry. I feel like if I could just let it out, I would move on a lot more easily, but I can’t. I need a trigger.
I’m not sure if existential dread plays a part here; I feel like I’ve been stuck for the past few months or so. I need to start moving.
SPOILERS THE WISE MAN’S FEAR
The light in her hand showed smudges across her face, probably from where she’d been rubbing away her tears. It was the first time I’d ever seen Auri dirty. Her eyes were darker than normal, and her nose was red.
Auri sniffed and rubbed her blotchy face. “You,” she said gravely, “are a dreadful mess.”
I looked down at my bloody hands and chest. “I am,” I agreed.
Then she gave a tiny, brave smile. “I didn’t run so far this time,” she said tilting her chin proudly.
“I’m glad,” I said. “And I’m sorry.”
“No.” She gave her head a tiny, firm shake. “You are my Ciridae, and thus above reproach.” She reached out to touch the center of my bloody chest with a finger. “Ivare enim euge.”