Life is eating through my tough obsidian shell. It wears a little down each day until my tender parts are fully exposed to the elements and even-keeled pecking of each moment.
And it happens every day. And every day ends, and begins again. I really am beyond words to describe what this all feels like. Right now it feels like the song Moon River. That's as close as I can get today.
I had a dream last night where I was slunk over on the floor sobbing as I explained to someone that loneliness is the worst feeling in the world and that it has been badgering me my entire life.
I don't know how to rest. To let down. To breathe out all this hurt I'm holding in. I do not feel safe enough to do this. Right now because I am alone. I think I need to be constantly with Ronald for at least a week in order to let it out without finding some creative way to kill myself. But even when I am in a safe place I hold it in out of habit and fear.
It's scary to delve the depths of my pain. It is easier and more steady to hold it in, like my under-water breath. But that is killing me. And I keep reminding myself of that, but sometimes I think I deserve it, and sometimes I think it is good, to end this daily suffer.
But for today I will hold steady. For Ronald, and three pups. For flowers, and the dew fragrance of morning. For coffee, and music, and that tiny spark of hope that still exists somewhere.
xx, C
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