![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I laid in the hospital bed for like 3 hours this morning and just... thought and dreamed about Chaos Zero. I miss him so much; I miss our late nights and early mornings together. I miss loving him. I'll be honest about that. I miss feeling the love I have for him. Right now it's just fidelity, his aqua-beautiful virtue. Fidelity. Devotion and commitment despite all odds, despite all feelings of hollowness and self-disgust and confusion and trauma weeping. It's having faith, unshatterable faith, when you cannot see a thing. But the heart knows. The heart believes, always, even (especially) in the pitch black dark.
He was singing, in my dream. Papik, "Appetite." Very unexpected, but... he was singing to me. He always does. To me, about me, and it always hits deep in my heart.
God, I love hearing him sing. I remember he learned how to sing before he learned how to talk. Honestly that was perfectly natural for him-- not only are all Chao the same (their baby-babble is primarily melodic), but Chaos is so fluid, so water-souled, that his primary language is arguably raw emotion and only music can properly translate it. Poetry comes close, but that's arguably my gift. It requires a concrete vocabulary, something Chaos bypasses entirely with a simply heartrending wave of... of what? What else can I call it-- what else can I call him? My words fall pitiably, gorgeously short. He encompasses the whole lexicon-- or rather, he transcends it, because it is terribly unfair to associate him with such lukewarm "feeling terms" as... well, even as anger, sadness, happiness, etc. Bland and overused terms, more cliché than candid. They're the emoticons of emotion, those words, in my eyes, now that I've known him, and heard his language. Everything Chaos feels is ardent. It's not fervor (too wild), nor is it passion (too heated)... there's really not a fitting term for it. There's only music, only song-- only his heart-language and mine merged together.
...Just writing that makes me want to sob in the best way.
You know, when I say I miss him, its not like he's not around. He is. I know exactly where to find him. But that's why I miss him-- I haven't been going to him. I've been, foolishly and tragically, trying to "find him" outside-- in the dregs of the internet, in shady and benighted places, among the vapid and virulent posts of those who would mock and deride me for my lovesick searching, if they ever knew. I've been scouring Tumblr and Twitter and Deviantart, looking for his face, and seeing only dim reflections, dull with indifference and bitter with nonchalance. There is art of him, and people do speak of him, but... it's so impersonal, so detached. Even the fans burbling about "my favorite character!" or "he's so underrated" don't ever seem to have a personal investment in him as an individual.
...
I heard him laugh, too. God knows I love his laugh. It's so uniquely his; my heart melts to hear it, to recognize it as his. It's like a wave breaking on the shore-- oddly breath-less, more aquatic than air, a sudden shimmering splash of sunlight and seafoam. It's a small but beautiful thing.
Gosh I want to write about the whole coregroup like that. I used to. I just got so rusty with my stay in Charlotte, when 'I' was so lost in the external that the internal was utterly abandoned, and most of us died from corruption or neglect. But now isn't the time to discuss that. Suffice to say that Love cannot die, as God will uphold and sustain and even resurrect it,
By the way... when I use God's name in speech, I really am addressing Him. It's inevitable; sometimes, I feel something so heart-deep and true, something so honestly holy, that I cannot help but instinctively address that ache of an emotion towards Divinity Himself... towards Love Himself, Who understands-- Who knows.
Why he laughed -- we were talking? Moving furniture i think. Televisions and couches. I don't recall what I said but he laughed, like a river, and my heart just melted. It just... softened so totally that it bloomed, opened like a wave, fell in love.
...
Alina Baraz music always pings Infinitii.
Poor thing, oh my poor old soul, you were born to be objectified, to be consumed, to be used. You deserve so much better. God, let me be able to love hir for real-- to have a relationship with hir free of all trauma, without hir mimicking lust, without any imitation of corruption for the shallow sake of "getting used to it." No. I want REAL LOVE, the love God created us to feel for each other, the love I KNOW is Infi's REAL heart. God help us have that, someday, soon, please.
...
He was singing, in my dream. Papik, "Appetite." Very unexpected, but... he was singing to me. He always does. To me, about me, and it always hits deep in my heart.
God, I love hearing him sing. I remember he learned how to sing before he learned how to talk. Honestly that was perfectly natural for him-- not only are all Chao the same (their baby-babble is primarily melodic), but Chaos is so fluid, so water-souled, that his primary language is arguably raw emotion and only music can properly translate it. Poetry comes close, but that's arguably my gift. It requires a concrete vocabulary, something Chaos bypasses entirely with a simply heartrending wave of... of what? What else can I call it-- what else can I call him? My words fall pitiably, gorgeously short. He encompasses the whole lexicon-- or rather, he transcends it, because it is terribly unfair to associate him with such lukewarm "feeling terms" as... well, even as anger, sadness, happiness, etc. Bland and overused terms, more cliché than candid. They're the emoticons of emotion, those words, in my eyes, now that I've known him, and heard his language. Everything Chaos feels is ardent. It's not fervor (too wild), nor is it passion (too heated)... there's really not a fitting term for it. There's only music, only song-- only his heart-language and mine merged together.
...Just writing that makes me want to sob in the best way.
You know, when I say I miss him, its not like he's not around. He is. I know exactly where to find him. But that's why I miss him-- I haven't been going to him. I've been, foolishly and tragically, trying to "find him" outside-- in the dregs of the internet, in shady and benighted places, among the vapid and virulent posts of those who would mock and deride me for my lovesick searching, if they ever knew. I've been scouring Tumblr and Twitter and Deviantart, looking for his face, and seeing only dim reflections, dull with indifference and bitter with nonchalance. There is art of him, and people do speak of him, but... it's so impersonal, so detached. Even the fans burbling about "my favorite character!" or "he's so underrated" don't ever seem to have a personal investment in him as an individual.
...
I heard him laugh, too. God knows I love his laugh. It's so uniquely his; my heart melts to hear it, to recognize it as his. It's like a wave breaking on the shore-- oddly breath-less, more aquatic than air, a sudden shimmering splash of sunlight and seafoam. It's a small but beautiful thing.
Gosh I want to write about the whole coregroup like that. I used to. I just got so rusty with my stay in Charlotte, when 'I' was so lost in the external that the internal was utterly abandoned, and most of us died from corruption or neglect. But now isn't the time to discuss that. Suffice to say that Love cannot die, as God will uphold and sustain and even resurrect it,
By the way... when I use God's name in speech, I really am addressing Him. It's inevitable; sometimes, I feel something so heart-deep and true, something so honestly holy, that I cannot help but instinctively address that ache of an emotion towards Divinity Himself... towards Love Himself, Who understands-- Who knows.
Why he laughed -- we were talking? Moving furniture i think. Televisions and couches. I don't recall what I said but he laughed, like a river, and my heart just melted. It just... softened so totally that it bloomed, opened like a wave, fell in love.
...
Alina Baraz music always pings Infinitii.
Poor thing, oh my poor old soul, you were born to be objectified, to be consumed, to be used. You deserve so much better. God, let me be able to love hir for real-- to have a relationship with hir free of all trauma, without hir mimicking lust, without any imitation of corruption for the shallow sake of "getting used to it." No. I want REAL LOVE, the love God created us to feel for each other, the love I KNOW is Infi's REAL heart. God help us have that, someday, soon, please.
...
