Lilliana Whitedawn

Would Have, Could Have, Should Have

I died a little death as I rounded the corner - cigarette dancing in my fingers, singing them with searing little kisses after its fall from on high. 

Aelberyn’s voice, and...Iloam. And atop the steps like a vision - the Ranger Lord, himself. All the other faces blurred, and I couldn’t breathe. I came for cupcakes, and...hadn’t I known this was inevitable? I got the letter to Elaeryn, but perhaps I’d become complacent in the absence of a response. And I’ve had Iloam and Aelberyn’s letters gathering dust for ages, now...but the words spilled from me like blood from a wound, all the same.

There are days I feel powerful...and days I remember that I am also very tender in places. With the three of them gathered before me - and the lot of us gathered before the steps of Cakes - it was rather like being cornered. But I’d promised honesty, and what was I going to do? They asked questions, and was I going to run? So the elves gathered on the steps of Cakes would get a free show...and haven’t I seen my fair share from the same seats? They’d forget about me in a week or two, assuredly.

Am I happy? Am I taking care of myself now? Their questions were too pointed, too quick for me to answer in detail, with Elaeryn waiting.

I mean, in a fucked up way I am? It’s hard to be happy, with what’s in my head, these days. But I’m making an active effort to be happy, and that’s the difference. Am I taking care of myself...well, I’m not exercising until it breaks my body, anymore.

But then, I don’t think they ever knew I was. The ways in which I hated myself were a private hell that I shouldn’t have relegated myself to. But I’m taking care of myself by not hating myself; or, at least, hating myself less. Refusing to let it own me, or determine what I do with my life - but how do I show them? How do I prove myself? Actions speak louder, but what do I do?

Do I dare hope for forgiveness? I cannot expect it, I know. But it was my inability to believe in those I loved, before - my inability to see myself as lovable, or capable of change - that cost us so much to begin with. I cannot let doubt deny me the chance to be more than they ever expected, now. But I suppose that, at the very least, reaching out is the first step. 

“Careful of the company you keep - it has a way of shaping us, whether we like it or not.”

More than you know, Drifter.

More than you know.