It is, it really, really is. Things change, things end and begin. Tiny flickers of hope appear in places where you never expected to see them. I have much to talk about and no time to do so. This is merely a promise to myself . . . I will write and I will think and I will learn. I have notes to myself everywhere.
“Write something, dammit!”
I will. But for now, I am having a girl’s weekend, and it’s time to go get something to eat.
So many things remind me of him, of us, of what we had, seemed to have, all that. And I’ve been avoiding certain things, thoughts of things, songs, places, and so on, because of that. Because of the feelings evoked, of the pain that shoots through me, because I was weak. I’m still weak, occasionally, momentarily, but overall I am strong and I will prevail. You can’t eat me. You can’t have my soul.
I love this picture, it is one of my favorite pictures of me and my son. And I let it be tainted, because it involved him. But you know what? He can’t have it, it is mine. I love it, my friends love it, and I look damn good in it. I’m taking it back. And that is a start.