"A Horcrux is a powerful object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purpose of attaining immortality." ~wiki
It has been over three weeks since I last saw my book. I have no idea where it is. I'm still holding out hope, (small small hope).... but reality is setting in.
I feel like I made a horcrux. And then lost it.
I strung out my heart, multiple times through that book.
Performed open heart surgery.
Braced for literal surgery.
Processed the stuff that came to me as I sat in silence.
Gave flight to flocks of birds and released branches from their roots.
I had letters from dear friends in there. A note from Lessie on Wonder Woman stationary, the recipe for my signature drInkPunk Cocktail from Andy, a card FULL of tentacle-y doodles from Bear is in there. And so many more. The number bib from every race I've finished during this time is taped in there, becoming part of the art/life-documentation. Mementos from travels and conventions, midnight brain vomits, poems and quotes and song lyrics. Pain (seems the book got the most use during hard times) but happiness too. The book was almost full (almost two years full) only a small handful of pages left.
It feels like I've lost those two years of my life. Like I put my soul into something too easy to disappear. Yeah Yeah, okay, that's getting a bit melodramatic.
To be honest, the past two years have been rough. A part of me sees this as a message from the universe to just let all the toxic ink go. Some dear friends just sent me a care package, to help ease the loss of the book: the most amazing assortment of "things" (old postcards, foreign money, tiny illustrations on paper, photos of friends, a ribbon). The kind of stuff to lend good mojo to my new book. Which, incidentally, was also a gift from those friends.
So, yes. For your viewing pleasure, a few glimpses into the horcrux that got lost: