February 11, 2024

Am I ok?

I think I'm ok

I feel ok, should I not be ok?

I mean, probably not, since my brain has morphed into a heap of old necklaces, all kinked and knotted and wadded up into one big mess of...

Despair, that's the word!

Agony, maybe?

No I don't even think there's a word for the cocktail of terror and apprehension and sorrow topped off with a chaser of helplessness and hopelessness that I've been binging on for weeks

But I'm sober now

I wish I could scrub my eyes and burn my ears and rip the sobs out of my throat and curl up into a corner of the earth where the wind will dry my tears and the rain will wash away all the bad memories and the moon will comfort me in her embrace and I can forget that they're all gone, that they just left me here

I have to find their picture, the one taken before me

Why does it feel like a shotgun blast to the chest to realize we've traded places once again?