(no subject)
I feel lonely this morning. Lonely like I'm grieving. The emotional overwhelm, like a wading pool that suddenly deepens to 12 feet. I feel intolerably needy, and wanty, and yearny. I feel like a brat, a 5 year old who just wants everyone to pay attention. Shower her with love and praise and spontaneous gifts. Not because she's spoiled, but because she's weak. Because she's still forming her opinions of the world, and you want to make sure she doesn't turn to stone.
I feel like my days of being understood are over. Of course, it's not true. But the person who understood me the most is gone. She never needed explanation. She knew more than I did. But she's gone.
Fuck.
Sometimes people go away and you think life goes on. You believe that it will get better with time, and things will fill in - replace what was there with something else. But sometimes what's left isn't a hole, it's a void. Unfillable and dark and permanent. When they leave with death, it's just over. She's gone, and she's gone, and he's gone, and he's gone. All the losses are stacking up and it fucking hurts. Those who aren't dead are sorely missed. We used to have each other. All of us, at one time.
adrift, I have no stable shore in sight. Just my rusty boat and trusty companion. we travel parallel, eyes on the water, hesitant to take up the spyglass. if one should spy shore, there's so much more to fear. more than this isolation, more than starving or dying of thirst. we've seen the shore before...
I feel like my days of being understood are over. Of course, it's not true. But the person who understood me the most is gone. She never needed explanation. She knew more than I did. But she's gone.
Fuck.
Sometimes people go away and you think life goes on. You believe that it will get better with time, and things will fill in - replace what was there with something else. But sometimes what's left isn't a hole, it's a void. Unfillable and dark and permanent. When they leave with death, it's just over. She's gone, and she's gone, and he's gone, and he's gone. All the losses are stacking up and it fucking hurts. Those who aren't dead are sorely missed. We used to have each other. All of us, at one time.
adrift, I have no stable shore in sight. Just my rusty boat and trusty companion. we travel parallel, eyes on the water, hesitant to take up the spyglass. if one should spy shore, there's so much more to fear. more than this isolation, more than starving or dying of thirst. we've seen the shore before...