again

thirteen.

I returned to the place where I once felt comfort, where me and lucifer have had many moments- even though I would never admit it.

I trace my fingers down the keys of his piano once again reminded of a time we played together.

Tiptoeing through his house has become a pattern for me, I do it often. No matter what I do I always end up back at the penthouse.

No amount of therapy could help me cope with the pain that is the loss of a love. The cost you pay when you love someone is greater than any amount of money you could possess.

Admittedly, I will always return, I will never have a final day coming to the penthouse and if I do it's because I have died.

There have been studies that find you can die of a heartbreak, and lately I've been feeling a lot closer to that than I have in my life.

I thought I felt heartbreak when I told pierce I loved him, and he left. I thought I felt heartbreak when Dan and I divorced, I thought I felt heartbreak countless times but it turns out you will never feel true heartbreak until you give the entirety of you to someone;
Your life, your heart, your mind and everything in between, and then it's ripped from your grasp-
Just out of reach.

Luckily for me, his liquor is not.

Countless times I've grabbed a bottle randomly, consuming every drop like a starved baby. In a way I am starved; starved of a feeling. A feeling of fullness, completeness, wholeness, a feeling of love.

There have been times where I told myself I didn't care, and I would continue this charade until the anger built inside of me and I finally felt like I was going to break.
But you cannot break what is already broken.

I would take my anger and direct it in places it had never belonged, I would use it against Dan, use it against Suspects- even innocents.

Lying has become my specialty, I lie about being over it, about moving on, about being okay. I guess I've become so different from lucifer I don't even know if I would want him to come back. To see the liar I've become.
Lying through my teeth to people I care about, to my own daughter.

My family has become more like roommates, we talk only occasionally, we eat meals together- but only when I can-, and then we depart.
I send my daughter to bed without a bedtime story from her mother, only stories from Maze but even that is rare.

I am becoming my mother, forcing my daughter to grow up too soon, Dan is worried. He has offered to take Trixie until I get my act together but I tell him "I'm fine."

People have become distant and I have became accustomed to blacking out drunk in a dead mans bed.
Correction, he's not dead.
Just the feeling of him is,
just the actual earthly embodiment of him.

My schedule has not only changed it's catastrophic; it is never consistent.
Trixie has missed more school than any other child at her school,
I have missed more work than acceptable and I have used every single one of my vacation days.

The only thing that remains consistent is my return to the penthouse.
and soon enough, I'll be forced to give up.