I WOULD RATHER FEEL YOUR AGE

There are times when Savage Kitten notices that I am downcast, and asks if there is anything that she can do to help. There isn't. She herself is the cause.
She realizes this, but what she cannot know is that she herself has changed so much over the past few months that I have lost far more than just my long-time lover. Something priceless is gone, and I'm not sure what has replaced it. The Savage Kitten I knew is still there, but she is no longer the same.
I am still incredibly fond of the person, but there are now parts to the person that I cannot fathom.

I suppose I should chalk it up to growth. We all grow.
No doubt I have also changed, but for me it is hard to quantify how - I am not an impartial observer of my own existence, and am too close to the subject to have perspective.
I shan't ask her, though - at this time she is not impartial enough either, and I don't really want to hear her perspective on such things as yet.

Savage Kitten and I are friends. Good friends, who know each other better than others.
But we aren't companions. There are things that can no longer be said.

I have become a more private person - that is a development that I do notice. Not a development I particularly like, but there really isn't any choice.


I miss what used to be, and need something new in its stead.


While I like people around me, I don't really like talking anymore. Their joy and vitality is pleasant, provided they mostly leave me alone. I can occupy my mind by reading or spacing out a bit.
Too many people, however, is a distraction and a discomfort.
Group events were never something to which I looked forward, but at present the prospect of a multitude is quite unsettling.

One or two people, good friends, with whom to have dinner or a snack, or in whose company to sit reading - that sounds about ideal. Tea or coffee, quiet warmth. Time together for the mind to wander and unwind, without forced conversation, without the racket of a public place, without the distraction of other people's hyper chattering.
Heck, if I were a dreary old fart, I'd go down to the club and sit in the library rustling my papers and grumbling, in the distant presence of the similarly afflicted..........

There are no clubs anymore, and I am far too young for such a course of action.


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