The Stars and the Cookie Jar

penmage  has me listening to Frou Frou, again. I think everyone should listen to 'Let Go', at any rate... It's one of those songs that has made it easier to breathe when I hear it, for some months running.

Simon said some oddly hurtful things to me on the phone (this is becoming a trend) about how he didn't know why I was leaving, because my life here was all lined up and set to go.

I think that sort of answers itself. My life is not here. My heart isn't. The two and a half years since I left home, I've been trying to get back. It's terrible to know you've literally left your heart somewhere and have to fight your way back to it, but that's the way I am.

So for the past two days I've been packing, and writing; everything is happening so fast. I'll be here only another week. That's incredible. (Flying back down for surgery, methinks; expensive but unavoidable; the Company would like me in place by July 14, even if it's just for the meet and greet -- if you're saying "But, huh??" Don't worry, I am too.)

Oh, and I can't remember if it's the 29th June or not. If it is:

When the twelvemonth and a day were past, the ghost began to speak.

Let me pour out some wine to the ghost of myself, then, and thank you all for carrying me through. I've paid, I'm free, I'm coming home.