Found:
I sat outside upon the raised step of the White Wolf. It was horribly cold; the sun barely a blush on the horizon. I hate the cold. I should have been abed. However, I have always been an early riser. Easier to sneak out that way. Easier to get more distance between myself and wherever I had just left. But I wasn't leaving Towerglan. At least, not yet.
I had no will to be indoors, even though it was far more warm than here. The walls felt claustrophobic, the ceiling pressing in on me like the lid of a sarcophagus. The tavern itself is not small by any means, the rooms spacious and high, yet it all felt so horribly restrictive. If I stayed inside, surely I'd be trapped forever.
A ridiculous notion, I know, but I couldn't shake it. Nor could I shake the feeling that I am needed elsewhere. Wishful thinking. No one needs me. It's just that desire to keep moving, that restlessness that I have indulged for so long.
Why is that?
Why is it that, even now, I can't seem to leave behind that inner demand to flee?
I suppose the answer to that is obvious. I've been running for so long now that I don't know how to stop. I've slowed down, that much is true, but still I keep moving. I never stay anywhere for long, always wanting to move on.
But I don't want that. Not anymore. My desire to settle is at war with my drive to keep going.
My reasons for running are now long gone, or at least no longer possess the capability of causing me further harm. Yet, I continue to let them push me further and further away, ever and ever onward. It has to stop.
I have to stop.
There's nothing to keep you here or anywhere else, that small voice whispers at the back of my mind. And it's mostly correct. The few friends I possess are used to my comings and goings. There's nothing to stop me from finding the next horizon and disappearing over it, perhaps for good! No one would notice. They'd just assume that I'll be back one day and think no more of it.
And whose fault is that?
Well, mine, obviously. I've done all in my power to form as few attachments as possible over the years. I've done all in my power to create distance between me and every place I have ever been. I never stay for long and, with few exceptions, I never look back. It was the way I needed to be at the time, the way I survived.
But it doesn't need to be that way anymore.
I have to remember that. When all within me screams that I have stayed for too long, I have to remind myself that I no longer need to run. When all within me cries that there is no need to stay, that the next adventure awaits, I have to remind myself that I want to stay, that my adventuring days are behind me.
You're alone. You'll always be alone.
I always have been. I'm not sure that I know how not to be. Isn't that partially why I've always found entertainment in the form of beds and men? That momentary illusion of being cared for, of being wanted, of being with. I learned early on in life that my body was not my own; that it was owned by someone else,to be used for their amusement however abhorrent it was to me. I learned later that it could be instrumental in surviving another day, men so often being willing do almost anything for some fleeting satisfaction and that lesson drastically shifted my perspective; I was the one with the power now. I could decide and no one would ever again choose for me. I learned later still - too late, perhaps - that exercising that power as often as I did only fed into my isolation.
It's only in these past few years that I have begin to learn the sensation and value of love. Familial love for Aiden and Eithwyn. Friendly love for Aevalyn, Toddir, Taala and Neyaa. Romantic love for Eordion and, warily, for Rhaug. "Warily" I say, for my experiences with Eordion have made me less comfortable with the idea than I was before, and the mistake I made with Dagramir leaves me uncertain.
My troubled mind these past few years, the disconnect between my wants and needs, the struggle for my very identity, has left me frayed, battered and tattered, unsure and unbalanced. But I think I am finally starting to see my way through.
My thoughts turn to Eordion, who may have left me but who I never fought for because I knew he would be far happier with his dim-witted thief. My thoughts turn to Aiden who, although I had done all in my power to see him fed and educated whilst I worked tirelessly to provide the funding, signed adoption papers that I had acquired for us, choosing another woman for a mother, and who I later watched leave with his uncle because I knew he would have a better life that way. My thoughts turn to Eithwyn who, though I came to adore in our short time together and who I would have gladly taken as my own daughter regardless of who her father was to me, I nevertheless bid goodbye to in the certain knowledge that she will have a more stable and loving upbringing surrounded by a real family in her own lands. My thoughts turn to Rowan who, though it killed me to do it, needed peace from me so, in giving it, I ensured he would ever more remain free of my toxic influence.
Before me, the sun crested the horizon, spilling forth its rosy glow to wake the sleeping world. Behind me, the tavern maids were hard at work, the scent of cooking bacon creeping out through closed windows and doors to tickle my senses. For the first time in days, I feel hungry.
And I smile, for now I know.
I am a person who has, and will, sacrifice all that she has and all she wants for the sake of those she cares for. I am a person who will walk away for the needs of a loved one, no matter how it breaks my heart to do so.
There is one less crack in the mirror now.
