Empty

Cold.

Numb.

Disconnected.

Voided.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

39 Revolutions

It's coming up on my birthday soon. I'll be entering the final year of my thirties and as I expected, I can't help but look back over the last decade of my life and all the changes that have happened. Decade by decade they roll past me. I can remember being so excited to turn ten. Double digits, a momentous birthday for me. I was awarded new freedoms, and given new responsibilities. Up to 20 was growth with school and puberty. Idyllic childhood, so many golden memories. Life had not yet shown it's uglier facades to me until I turned 19. My high school sweetheart shattered my heart into hundreds of pieces, my grandmother sank deeper into Alzheimer's, and I fell out with friends over the smallest slights. I would spend the next two decades trying to recapture some element of the happiness and wholeness I felt. The sense of irrefutable belonging I had in my childhood. My twenties were marked with tragedy in a string from which I thought I'd never recover. It ...
Read more

Hold My Hand

The sun has started to set, and he’s looking at me across the table. Around us people are talking, and I glance down to check the time. Almost six. Almost time. His cousin is saying something about work and I’m trying to pay attention. I’m trying to give him eye contact and encourage him to talk around this group of predominantly strong women who have clearly taken the lead on conversing. For a month now, he’s been talking about me being in Charleston by six this evening. I took the day off work as soon as he asked, but he wouldn’t give me so much as a hint. He only asks me what I think it could be. Well how do you answer that? I have no idea. I spend hours in my head all day, amused by myself for my own entertainment. What do I think it could be? Anything. I imagine a picnic by the sea, but we had eaten dinner already. I imagine a museum, but why the time? Everything would be closed by then. I think maybe a carriage ride, but the timing again was critical. Why six? Why so important ...
Read more

Time

 it moves differently in crisis. Soft in the middle with sharp edges. Tasting like copper. Time is a friend and a hated enemy. All those memories, piled on in time, reminding you of what's lost. What could be gained again. Of what could or could not be.
Read more