My demons had all been long asleep in caves so deep I imagined they were dead. They awoke, and warmed me at first, then I burst into flames. The time and the place are never right, and this is no exception. I listen, and hear with a compassionate and devoted heart. Because I am the most romantic, poetic, emotional literalist you may ever meet, I don’t always understand things said in plain english. But perhaps eventually I will. Fucking Cancerians… tedious is what we are.

And everyone says “It’s so wonderful that you are in therapy.” And I feel cynical, and patronized, and wish I’d never told anyone.

And everyone says “You are obsessed, you have idealized her, she doesn’t love you, is not available for you, you need to let it go and move on.” And I am quiet, and wish I’d never opened my heart at all.

Then someone said “I think you should date a man.” And I laugh, but they are serious.

What madness is this? The universe is a sadistic bastard, not the loving Mother Goddess I pray to five times a day. And yet, even this torment is the gentlest possible way of calling me into the present… taking my hand sweetly and whispering softly to me that I must be here and now. I must stop relating everything to her, and ultimately to me. These things are only things, and while it may never be in this lifetime as it was not in the last, or even in the next, it surely is what it is. And I must accept this.

In calm and quiet, I feel the wetness of the grass beneath my feet as I close the doors to the barn. I attach the padlock and snap it shut. There is work to be done. And no one is going to do it for me. I am willing, and ready. And so I begin, chuckling to myself softly. God is cruel. And though there are tears in my eyes, and I am scared half out of my mind, we are laughing together. Tenderly.