TM 201- Talk about something you lost.

This week, it looks like the topic going around my friends list is loss. I'd feel dishonest not writing something about it. Loss is something I know a lot about.

It's funny how the hardest things to talk about, for me, at any rate, are the ones that aren't there anymore. It's like, if there's a problem in your life, something that's bugging you, a situation, a person, there's still a chance to fix it. So, no problem being pissy about it. You know it's not the end of the world.

But when it is the end of the world, or an ending, period, when something or someone is gone forever and you'll never get it back...that's when it's hard. That's when I choke. I guess maybe it seems too pointless, and I've been accused of being 'Logan Cale: Man of Action.' I don't do well when there's a problem and I can't do something to fix it.

So, loss. Things in my life that are gone without hope of repair or return. There's my parents. My uncle (didn't like him, but he was family). My marriage to Val and, with her, my ability to trust people quickly or completely. The world as I knew it. My family's money. The innocent people who got caught in Eyes Only stuff and died. The Transgenics who died as a result of what I helped do.

I started to type 'my legs,' but, you know, that isn't true. Loss means that something is gone. My ability to walk is lost. (Unless I use the exo, which I don't feel particularly safe doing, if I'm being honest. It shorts out a lot. Besides, living alone, I've saved it for using for PT and emergencies, not just hiking for the hell of it.) But my legs are still here. It's weird, but I think about them more now than I did before I got shot. I have to.

And it's weird, too, that not being able to walk isn't the biggest loss, there. I mean, yeah, it sucks. But it's the loss of sensation that has been the hardest to accept. The first time I looked down and saw myself bleeding (I'd hit the sharp corner of a drawer with my shin) and didn't feel it? It was--you know, there aren't words to describe it.

A few times, before the virus, Max put her hand on my knee. The mental battle between what should have been and what was... It's like falling. Vertigo. Like looking at yourself in a mirror but seeing your reflection do something else.

It was that feeling all over again when Max and I found out about the virus. Loss of sensation. And it's the same thing now when we try to get around it, with gloves and plastic. Comparing what should be with what is; knowing that reality's falling short.

And sometimes I think it was bad enough when I was just numb on the inside. The universe has got a sick sense of humor, and honestly? I'm not laughing. I'd say I just want to feel something, but even that's not true. I do. A sense of loss.

Logan Cale/ Eyes Only
Dark Angel
561 words

193: Forest photo prompt.

A lot of people on my friends list this week have been talking about this picture of a forest. I guess it's some kind of meme, or something.

A couple years ago, I would've looked at that photo and thought it looked like a beautiful, peaceful place. I would've thought it looked like a nice place to go hiking, or camping. I used to like hiking and camping.

Now do you know what I see when I look at that photo? What I think? I think, 'Huh. Nice picture.' And I get pissed off.

I was going to end this entry there, but maybe, for once, I'll elaborate.

( Do yourself a favor and don't read this. )

I could go on, but I've said enough. More than enough. I'll take my fresh air and sunshine through a window, thanks. Or out on the sidewalk. On a paved path through the park.

Now do me a favor and don't comment on this. I said when I got this blog that I wasn't going to lock entries to private, but I wrote this one for myself. I don't need pity, or sympathy, or reassurance. This is just how it is, and unless you have a damn good reason, unless you get it, sorry, but I don't need to hear it.

Peace. Out.

Logan Cale/ Eyes Only
Dark Angel
720 words