Yet there the nightingale filled all the desert with inviolable voice

Life moves on. No matter how bad things seem, life always keeps going. The only thing you can do is keep moving along with it.

I suppose what's prompted my most recent wave of introspection is - and I have no qualms about posting here, since no one actually reads this - is the fact that a week ago, I received an 'apology' note from someone who hurt me very deeply. I suppose, on the off chance that someone stumbles across this, that I can at least try not to mention names or specifics. Suffice to say, I allowed myself to become very attached to this person and s/he decided her/his feelings had changed and as a result s/he treated me very poorly.

In a nutshell, the note described how s/he was in a similar position to the one in which s/he had put me, saying how awful it felt and how s/he realised how I must 'feel' in regards to her/his treatment of me. The note was delivered by a dear friend of mine with whom this person had recently begun associating; I hadn't been close to my friend when everything had happened, so I spent last Friday explaining how s/he who had written the note had hurt me.

What I didn't realise before starting to explain was that the act of explaining, and revisiting those memories, would put me back in that frame of mind (basically take me back to how I felt when everything happened). I spent from about 3pm Friday afternoon until probably 2pm Saturday in a state of extreme emotional instability - Friday night I kept crying for no apparent reason, and Saturday I was anxious and tense until I got in the pool and started swimming laps instead of just dinging around.

As of yet I have no real solid plans to respond to the 'apology'. I have difficulty believing it's truly sincere, especially after what was said to me. It also feels somewhat weak - as if s/he is just apologising because s/he believes it's expected. This goes along with my earlier feeling that this person has been acting like I'm the one being irrational for being hurt (some of the things said include 'You're clearly still obsessed with me' and 'You know you're not going to be able to meet your goal, right?' among others) and like I'm completely out of line for not wanting anything to do with her/him.

Maybe I AM out of line for not wanting to be around someone who treated me like putrescence and expected me to magically forgive and forget the next day, because s/he 'didn't mean it'. I firmly believe that 'What's said is said' and that very few things said are truly not meant - sometimes you don't mean to SAY something, but that doesn't mean you don't feel it or you don't believe it. It just means you let yourself SAY it.

Partially because it's coming on April again and partially because of my general mood of late, Eliot reigns supreme in my head once more. Prufrock seems to be wandering in the Waste Land with several of Old Possum's Practical Cats... recognising the reasons for my melancholy and rectifying the situation seem to be completely unrelated. Music and coffee seem to help.

On the topic of coffee, I've discovered a new drink: it's called a cherry cordial and (when made properly) it tastes almost exactly like one of the Queen Anne cherries they sell at the grocery shop. It's just hot cocoa with cherry syrup and vanilla syrup - black cherry is optimal, and French vanilla (although the latter is a personal preference).

I've been considering moving. Not just out of my parents' house, but possibly further. It'd be lovely if I could make it on my own in the city, but I'm wondering at the feasibility and the practicality. Above most things I want to keep my cat and my current job - I adore my coworkers and my kittyface is my dearest companion (soz to all my human compatriots, but Scamper is... it's difficult to explain). I can't imagine starting someplace new without my kitty.

I suppose I'll post this for now, but hopefully I'll have something more eloquent to say later.

I may post the note I received, as well as drafts of a potential response if/when I write them.

Perhaps. I'm not sure yet. In the meantime, holding onto the thing with feathers - my internal nightingale, filling me with an inviolable voice...