So I walked to the bridge and stood out over the river, because lore says that Water, when it runs, should erase any magic, and I want so very bad to be free of a certain magic that has had hold of me for a time. I am so very experienced in all of this — more than I had ever wanted to be — and by that mark I should find all things easier, but I don’t.
I somehow suspect that it is never easier, and that there is nothing to wash away the magic. You can’t undo the parts of your life that you have lived; they are written, and they will remain. Historical.
I will not let the f*cking dog into the room tonight. I don’t want to see any f*cking dogs today.
No, I take it back. I will let the dog in. They say that when no-one else loves you, the important thing is to love yourself. I always have done, and still do. But it is not enough. It is at least as important, if not moreso, to know that other people love you.
This dog at least wants to come in.