It's been 1 1/2 weeks since December 1st, the beginning of the month.
A very black day.
I'm sad. Very sad.
But also scared. It's not pride, it's fear. I never thought I'd be so afraid of the unknown, but I am.
Is it safer to not know, to continue with the status quo and hope for a miracle on the other side, or swallow one's pride and run the risk of finding out forever no more?
I don't know. I think I'm doing right to allow space & time, but how much time? How much space?
I feel like I just need a sign, some indication that I'm, well, that stuff happens to everyone and that everyone is human. We all fuck up our lives and sometimes others', but they don't stay screwed up because of us being human.
Do they?
This is just whirling around in my brain a lot these days.
I hurt.
Herein lies a tale or two, of family, good friends, and times past. All my wonderful (and not-so-wonderful but still memorable) memories in e-form will now forever last. An e-scrapbook of people and places I love, protected from the ravages of the years, and I can now share these tales with others, eliciting laughter, e-kisses and tears. (although quite frankly, an e-kiss is a DEFINITE waste of energy in MY opinion. No caloric content whatsoever. Sigh. Oh well, I'll take it.)
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