day09 - how many years of bad luck does that count for?
dear luci,
like a shattered mirror, i reckon with my fragments. yes, i have been pulverised, but there is glass on the floor, and it must be dealt with. I'd just as soon leave it there. I'd just as soon ignore it. I can't even look at the debris. Sadness wells in my heart as in my eyes and overwhelms me. Absent mindedly, I kneel and begin to gather the pieces. they are sharp, and every memory, of which there are so many slices my hands. once pure, brilliant and joyful, now bloodstained and jagged.
the worst part is not being sure whether i've made the right choice.
the worst part is tearing down the life I built like an old set in a condemned soundstage.
the worst part is remembering in full force how much i love him.
the worst part is that there are so many "worst parts". I never even want to discuss it with anyone, except him. a handful of people in my life know, and I can't stomach it becoming any more public.
the urge to sob burns at the bottom of my throat.
I'm sorry Luci. Even you were a gift from him. And I'm so grateful. But it's so, incredibly painful. I can't even make this happy at the end. I started writing to you so I wouldn't just indulge in these pity parties. but it feels disingenuous to even try to spin this in a positive way. I don't feel better for it. I hate the idea that this pain is necessary to crystallize into some new me. I hate the solemn acceptance of facts. I'm sad. I can't breathe out of my nose because my crying has made me all snotty. it's not pretty, it's not cute, this doesn't feel like healing.
I'm sorry kiddo.
I love you so much.
Sweet dreams, Luci.