Pixelated Pixie Dust

Living with a portrait of my previous view of perfection is sweet poetic justice.
Lyn is the maternal figure i fantasized about and the poise and maturity i attempt to achieve. The sadness of heroes makes me more sure of the journey and the service journalism i've chosen for myself yet more scared of another wreck of sputtering on empty.

A phone call yesterday reminded me of the chaos i've escaped and the sweetness of my current simplicity. There is so little room left for regression and so much to be reckoned.

Still, my happiness continues and the stability of Stephen's ongoing devotion remains the novel end to my dreamy days. i continue to wait for the sparkling bubble to burst into a sad soapy puddle but both my cozy new company and and my old stickysweet honeypie continue to cradle me into a sense of security that scares me.
How to progress on this redhot high wire of happiness without slipping into a self-made noose?
i still mourn lost friends and seek resolution to dueling dualities. Actively disciplining myself with strength and balance needs to be my new way and not just some slogan from a Foxy TV news affiliate. What path is there for an growing autodidact who has already outgrown the small shoes left to fill?