Found:
I worked hard into the night. Candle-light isn't particularly good to repair a house by, and there's a lot of things that need doing that I certainly can't do alone. Or for myself. It turns out that swinging a hammer is easy enough. I can put nails into things and patch a few bits up here and there, but I'm a little lost when it comes to repairing the leak in the ceiling of the spare room and sorting out the windows.
I did what I could, though. I measured and cut until the light faded. I hammered and smoothed until I could barely see what I needed to put where. Then I scrubbed and cleaned until the candles burned down. There's still so much to do and none of it feels in the least bit fulfilling.
It's not that I can't see any end to this. I can. I know there will come a point when the job is done and I can just relax. I just don't gain any sense of satisfaction out of doing any of this. There's not even a promise of it.
I can hang as many curtains as I like, paint as many walls and scrub as many floors, but it's not going to change anything. I'm not going to feel any better. I'm not going to feel any more secure or settled.
I haven't slept, but that didn't stop me from walking down the hill and out to the Greenway. I just sat there at the side of the road, staring out to the East. Will it work? Will it help? If I go, will it put to rest the greatest of my regrets? Will I finally be able to shed that weight? If I go, will I come back?
Headstrong. Certain. Sure. Driven. Unstoppable. All things I used to be.
When did that change? When did I become so indecisive?
When I started to care.
Dammit!
So. Options?
Stop caring. Cut all ties. Leave. Don't look back.
Or...
Learn to reconcile that whole caring thing with doing the things that I have to do.
But do I have to do them? Is there another way?
And there is that indecisiveness again!
I could chase my tail for the next year and still be no closer to catching it. Bah!
Meanwhile Loakee is being an arse again. Arrogant, stubborn, sulky, grumpy... and I don't believe it for an instant. Or do I? My initial thought was that he's doing exactly what I would have done in his place. He's doing exactly what I expect him to do. He's pushing me away, keeping himself closed and distant because that makes things easier.
But is he?
As we spoke, I was so sure of it. I was so certain! He was employing tactics I myself have used so many times in the past. But in the exhaustion of sleepless pre-dawn, I found myself wondering if I'm just judging him by my own twisted standards.
Ugh. Does it really matter? If he's doing what I think he's doing, then why should I not let him? Why should I refuse him the scant comfort of sparing himself the potential heartache? And if he's not, if he's just that much of prick, if he's really shoved himself that far up his own behind, then why should I bother with him at all?
Too many splinters, both in my hands from the house and in my mind. Too many questions that I just don't know how to answer.
Neyaa. She'll know. Won't she?
