Musings From A Former Browncoat

There are few feelings as somber as knowing you're no longer a fan of something you once loved.

You gave something a part of your heart, room to move within your mind and your soul. Perhaps you met friends or went on adventures because of that love.

Now that love is gone. Banished through some failed exorcism or faded into a distant sense of oblivion. But that love you felt is utterly absent.

You know it used to live with you. You celebrated it more than you do now. Maybe you sang of it more than anything else in your life. And now you don't.

There are no songs. No rally of hope, no sense of fear. Only bitterness and sour where there was once a fond sweetness or a profound joy.

You try to bring it back to life. You reach for something, a sign, a spark, a newborn conviction. Everywhere you look, the sting only deepens.

It becomes painful. All the places that energized you before are now stagnant. There are no embers, only cold ashes. You keep looking.

After a while, the pain becomes so strong that you have to purge it. You cry to the heavens or to a friend or to anyone you might find. You try to make some peace with the hurt, but the wound still won't go away.

There's only one solution. You have to admit the truth.

That which you loved is gone. What you cared for has left you longing. There's an emptiness where love once lived. There isn't a door for what you loved to return. There's not a hope to soothe your pain.

All you have left is the void where something once belonged.

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