An undercurrent of mild anger runs through the point today as the entire Collective feels betrayed by a dream, as if they would or could try and somehow control my love life to their own end, as if they direct every action made here in order to serve a purpose.
I try to indicate that pots and kettles are usually black, unless they're stainless steel...or enamel and that honestly how haven't they controlled every aspect of my life from puberty onward, the strongest examples being when Lochlan broke up with me and I was virtually given to Cole, to Ben stepping in and taking over when Jacob flew. I know damn well Jacob was an outlier and they were pissed that I didn't stay within the group but all's well that ends well, I guess or something close to it.
But also! Lochlan is weirdly touched and has been losing his shit just about every time he looks at me. Because I was so relieved that it was a dream. Because I don't want to join the dead. Because I don't want to ever leave the collective again. It's easier just to listen when they tell you not to put your hand in the fire so that you don't get burned. Instead you can step right into it whole-bodied and be renewed.
Maybe it marks the very first time I have elevated the living above the dead. Maybe it marks a change. One that lets them breathe easy. One that just lets me breathe.
