I hope you will forgive me tonight. I am obligated to write and I have so many things swirling that need to be said, that should be said, no, screamed, so that everyone can hear and appreciate. Yet, I am too sad, too in the moment to make them clear enough for anyone to understand. Is there a point in talking to the void without expectation of being known?
It is possible, if only for its therapeutic potential.
My good friend said goodbye to a family member today. It was as hard as it would be. There is no other way to experience it but to expect the ugly and know that it is the only way. It sucks. It isn’t fair. I wish I could make it better. Nothing can make it better.
I had other things to say tonight. Words kindling beauty and promise and, hopefully, humour. There is a time for these things. It might even be now. If I were a better writer I could share them. Alas, I am flailing. I don’t have it in me to come up with anything appropriate. All I can do is look to tomorrow. It won’t be better but it might be easier.