stirring dust
Cleaning, with intermittent tears. I keep finding remnants of the past. Songs having soft but detectable links are semi-randomly playing through the speakers. I’m stirring dust. Drinking cold cold water. It feels good on cracked lips. Two bags of trash, so far. My back is tired — the rest of me, too. All the way through. Whatever, and ever.
Still in this day. Feeling almost amazingly empty. Just cycling through actions, tasks, thoughts and words. Birthday cake and booze. Laundry. Hah. Potential progress in cleaning and neatening some things up, earlier: but to what point? There seems to be no reason for me, or in anything I do. It’s kind of funny, actually. Guess I’ll fold my clothes, now.
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Really thought she was my soulmate. Funny to be wrong about something so intrinsic. Like thinking down was up…
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Wonder why I don’t read as much as I used to? Never thought that would change, either. Or that I’d stop writing. Oh, guess I’m writing now. This. Guess I never thought that this would be it.
Never thought I’d really lose my Mom.
Never realized how fast the dust would fall.
December 22nd, 2009 at 6:08 PM
i don’t believe in soul mates anymore. i believe in choices. soul mates don’t necessarily get you anywhere. i guess i’ve changed.
yes, loss is difficult. there are all kinds of it.
December 24th, 2009 at 4:20 AM
Oh I’m well acquainted with loss. In all it’s forms.
I still do believe in soul mates, though. And change? I don’t believe people change that much at all. Ever.