Sadness came to visit me this week.
It's true I am somewhat sentimental. I don't get much time to form attachments, but when I do, I consider them formed for life. Even when the nature of the attachment changes, I like to think I remain the same, or that my level of care and attachment remains true. I hold talismans, and small equations in my mind, and these things are my keepsakes.
Talisman: For three years I have worn a lip piercing that was crafted for me by my first SL companion. I never take it off, unless another item uses the same attachment point, and then, reluctantly.
I have told the story of this companion in these pages before. How I didn't expect such a connection, and then didn't believe in it; how he disappeared suddenly and how I grieved when he left. Eventually he reappeared, and continued to do so, sporadically. Equation: He was the First Idle Rogue, the Rogue for whom the group was named, and throughout the three years of Idle Rogue's existence, he remained a member of the group.
I have looked at that relationship in many lights; not all of them rosy. I have wondered what his purpose with me was, and what made him disappear. Over time it has become a wistful thing, but nothing greatly hurtful. I was happy to think we were still friends, after a fashion, and that he had as much left Second Life as left me. I came to think that, since I could never have left either, it was just one of those unevenly-balanced attractions.
On the weekend he revealed a new avatar to me, and told me a story I frankly don't believe about what was happening to with his former account.It matters not. He is no longer an Idle Rogue. He has returned to Second Life, and he does not intend that we will be friends, this round.
And I am fine with it. Just a little sad. The equation has changed, the talisman is pointless. And though I had "moved on" (more than once, in fact :-D), it saddended me to know that this foundation had shifted.
But the week was not done with me yet. My former partner also issued a note to explain he no longer felt engaged by Second Life. Life has become busy for him, and logging on was less and less a priority. He didn't see himself as leaving forever ... but certainly around less.
At this point, it would be disingenous of me not to mention that I am fairly intensely involved with someone new. That, also, has been mentioned in recent posts. I am content. My new companion is eminently suitable for what I do in and want from Second Life. I am no churl. I do not want my past back.
In our luxurious twenty-first
century lives, we have the "advantage"of being able to contemplate change. Our Second Lives are almost
certainly "inessential". Changes within them can be studied and
experienced without the pressing urgency of "survival", which is what
change used to mean to humans, and not so long ago. Of course, that's actually a double-edged sword. When you're adapting and surviving, you don't have time for grieving and resisting.
I feel such a great melancholy that these changes have swept through. Small tears have appeared in the fabric that is my SL story.
It feels less strong. It feels like there is less love supporting me.
This is not true, or is more complicatedly untrue than that sounds. But I
am sad nonetheless.