For her, the differences are so great it's as though she really is a completely different person.
And I realize, on a smaller scale, that's how I'm feeling.
I have no desire to date.
I restarted my Tinder app but not because I really want to go on any dates but because I felt like it was what I should do.
Those fucking shoulds.
Amelie was on a date one night this week and I was at home listening to Chopin with my cat reading about amusia.
I had no desire to switch places with her.
I haven't had sex in two months.
If you'd have asked me what I'd be like going two months without sex earlier this year I'd have said I'd be one cranky bitch.
But I honestly haven't even noticed.
It was only stumbling upon a particular conversation and realizing it's already half way through October that I even became aware of how long it's been.
The last time was him, which makes me feel like he has some power over me but I suppose it's my choice not to share my body with anyone else for awhile.
It's just a very un Reese thing to do.
She's apparently in hibernation.
Maybe she'll awaken in the winter?
Or perhaps the spring?
The spring was such a sweet time of year this year.
Two years in a row, actually....
What used to make me feel better isn't what I crave anymore.
The introvert in me seems to be taking over.
I've been listening to Beethoven and Chopin and Rachmanninoff and it's making me want to play the piano more.
So much of my identity has always been the people I surround myself with.
And lately I've been wanting to surround myself with music and books and maybe one or two girlfriends and that's it.
I feel strange.
But fascinated.
It changes you to lose someone that you love.
Especially when that someone is still very much alive.
Just no longer a part of your story.
Or even a part of the music you listen to.
You don't have that either.
You have nothing of them.
But your memories.
Hazy, confusing, but partially perfect and sometimes so very lovely memories.
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