curiosity always did kill the cat -- and satisfaction always brought it back
"Hm," he grunted softly in agreement, knowing Neron spoke the truth but still not quite ready to launch into qualifying whether how he was feeling was justified or not. Mostly because he was feeling so many things, over and over, different every second - and then sometimes it would all blend together and he would just feel nothing.
Maybe it was normal to be this way. It's what he'd always said to other people going through it, as well. He'd never lost someone before - not like this. He'd lost pets before, extended family members who he only saw at occasional events, and while he felt things deeply… This was different. He'd had his whole world shaken, his entire understanding of reality altered, he'd loved fast and hard, and now?
Now he fell fast and hard, with no-one to catch him.
"Thought about it. But actually deciding on something that feels sufficient seems beyond my grasp." He had many ideas, too many in fact - it was like with the emotions that grief brought, too many to ever allow him to settle on any particular one for long. He sighed.
"I don't know what I need, what I want," he was a man of purpose, a man with a plan, a goal, striving for the best in himself, and those around him. "I'll build the shit out of that farm. But beyond that…" he gave a shrug, unable to continue his train of thought, feeling as lost as the thought path always led him. He took another sip of his drink.
Maybe it was normal to be this way. It's what he'd always said to other people going through it, as well. He'd never lost someone before - not like this. He'd lost pets before, extended family members who he only saw at occasional events, and while he felt things deeply… This was different. He'd had his whole world shaken, his entire understanding of reality altered, he'd loved fast and hard, and now?
Now he fell fast and hard, with no-one to catch him.
"Thought about it. But actually deciding on something that feels sufficient seems beyond my grasp." He had many ideas, too many in fact - it was like with the emotions that grief brought, too many to ever allow him to settle on any particular one for long. He sighed.
"I don't know what I need, what I want," he was a man of purpose, a man with a plan, a goal, striving for the best in himself, and those around him. "I'll build the shit out of that farm. But beyond that…" he gave a shrug, unable to continue his train of thought, feeling as lost as the thought path always led him. He took another sip of his drink.
CHULANE
