The other day I was quietly enjoying my late night blues hit at a favorite club, the tunes filling the air with that wonderful, soothing heartbreak, when an ex-friend suddenly appeared. Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, he TPs into mine.
“I thought I'd find you here”, says he. Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.
You know, when people become our exes in Second Life-- when they are wiped from our friends’ lists and we gamely decide to “move on”-- there is a usually a very good reason. Something unforgivable was said or done. Or you suddenly realize this person is not who you thought he was at all-- I think everyone has been guilty of the I-wish-it-was syndrome, where faults and missteps of a beloved friend or lover are conveniently overlooked, and we fill in the blanks with our wishful, futile “if only”s. This can work well for awhile, at least until you see the light and realize you've been almost as big an oaf as he was, for your deliberate blindness.
But I wonder, why do they come back? The split might take an hour or it might take days, but by god, it’s over at last. They say relationships have a kind of half-life: how ever long your serious entanglement lasted, it will take half that time again to get over the relationship. So if your romance lasted a year for example, you can anticipate six months of mothy moping until your pain-free butterfly emerges. When that happens, however long it takes, it’s possible to go forth with a shred of self-esteem again.
But just as this is about to happen, the zombies crawl out of their graves and do a “thrilling” choreographed dance. Or, the undead one rises again and turns up at your blues club.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Where you found me is in “Over You” land. The land where it is safe for a young girl and her new friend to walk hand in hand on a darkened road, even on Halloween, even with a graveyard nearby!
Remember how that story ended? She woke up. It was all a dream.
Zombie avatar by Rage Hyx.