Mar. 25th, 2010

silent_songbird: (Angelica Danae)
Too swiftly. Even for one such as I. A century has past while I walk the earth as this creature someone made in a moment of careless anger--made and discarded as easily as one would rid themselves of an unwanted child spawned from a meaningless union. I have risen, only to fall and rise again, countless times, driven by the animal's base instinct to survive at all costs. I have seen the world change around me; music and art and science ticking over to match the new millennium and the people who embraced it with eagerness tempered by an innate fear of the unknown. I have bowed to this change myself, like a shy flower unfurling out of my Victorian-era calyx to become what they call a "modern woman". I have done well in this century. I am adapting. I am existing.

I am alone.

And I miss him.

Strange, isn't it? Over a century has past me by and that fact--that hole in my un-beating heart left by someone who no doubt does not even remember my face, let alone my name--remains the only true constant in my existence. So here I am. Alone and missing him for yet another night, in yet another city. While he is... not...?

Je t'aime, mon corbeau. Amour de mon éternité. Trouvez-moi.

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March 2010

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