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I guess it's time to come clean that I play DnD with some regularity now. In fact, I led my first session as a Dungeon Master over the holidays, and drafted up these isometric dungeons to mark the event. A pain in the ass but a blast to play through.
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Peter, robe me in a cloth of satin lips, to cover the grins that judge me.
Falling asleep I can't help but think of the many loves I've had.
Loves is a weird way to describe them. Love is that dull ache, right? This flurry of guilt, longing, resentment (to self?), sadness, happiness. Smiles pop up on a time line. Big wide smiles with red hair curling and making those big white teeth seem even brighter. Sly smiles distorted by a crooked, half nose. Non-smiles translated to the happy fidget of a nose ring. Laughing smiles, voluptuous smiles, innocent and fearful smiles.
I was not kind to all those pearly whites. I'll be damned if Heavens Gate is my life of enamel, a wall of teeth and the eyes that hurt and hung above them.
"It was my ego!" My Id replies. Cocky, sure. Thin confidence balancing over a horrible fear that I would waste the time of newness. But no excuse for hurting those that lent me their greatest show of happiness.
Have they forgot about it now? I remember those who hurt me, but those are the canyons that melded and gnarled my rivers to their current path. Speaking of (and here comes the question that snatches sleep from my breath)
Would I do it all again? If I could go back, knowing what I do now, would I? Atrocities to time travel logic aside, could I be who I once was?
I'm scared of the answer.
No, not the answer to if I could do it again. Because I wouldn't. I've hurt immensely. Each grasp of fingers is so truly ingrained in my being that I could not hope for another alternative. I'm.... me. Any other course would be disengenuine, I'll continue to hurt and be hurt and I'd never want to go back. Unraveling that lust to fix "just that one mistake" would rob me of me and me of my ambition.
The answer I fear is if I could be who I once was. This familiar image comes to head. It's a half smile in a mirror. Mine. The clothes change; add a pair of sunglasses, those stupidly tight red pants, black t shirts and keds. But the image, the feeling, remains. Up until now. If I were to step into a mirror I don't know if I could impose that image, those feelings, upon the current visage.
"Drab!" "Dull!" comes to mind.
I know more now. I can see (and feel) the impact my actions have on the world around me, and oh how subtly the world is pushing back. I couldn't claim that then. At least, not this truly.
Another smile gets added to the list. Mine. A past love that I now, in some horrible, horrible violation of space time, hurt.
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