Disclaimer: If it's not impossible, it's very unlikely. Butter biscuits.
Spectral Imprints
21: Just
A/N: This is written for CatalystoftheSoul's request, and the day after Father's Day. Happy (belated) Father's Day everybody.
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Just another year, and just another of those Father's days passing by.
You try to get through it, try to grin and bear it.
It's just another day, your father is long gone, and you certainly have no children of your own.
There's no reason to acknowledge it.
There's no reason to care.
This day is nothing to you, just nothing.
Those feelings of longing, of sadness, and of jealousy-pardon, those feelings you mistake for longing, sadness, and jealousy-they are nothing, perhaps just a bout of indigestion from some bad cheese.
It's just that the cheese always goes bad around this time of year.
Just go along with your business.
There's no need to wallow in misplaced feelings of self-pity.
They aren't real, just your imagination going wild for a little while.
There's no harm in that right?
So just go along with it.
This day will pass, as it always does.
Don't worry that the glass of wine you started taking all those years ago got bigger, and bigger, turned into two glasses, then three, then more.
There's nothing to worry about.
The day goes by, just like any other, and you can forget it.
Just forget it.
So why does this day always make you feel so hollow?
End.
A/N: Vlad always makes for good angst. Well, you know the usual. Review!