Even after so many years, it hasn’t gotten any easier, by now this is what I call normal. The phone rings, another man down. Still, I’m surprised when I come across a soldier unscathed. "How’d you manage to escape the war?" It's a simple enough request but I'm met with blank stares. It's as though they don't know they just walked through a mine field.
These days, fortunes are made on medicines that soften the scars. I know that mine aren't going away by popping some pills. I stitched up my wound the best I could with the tools I was given, but I’m no heart surgeon. I knew going in that I was marred for good.
# sing me something soft @
12:14 AM
0 sang
Sunday, August 3, 2008
I wrote this almost a year ago. It's strange to see how much has changed and how much has stayed the same.I don’t do this often and I will tell you why. When I let the words flow and bring out the most raw creative part of me everything else comes with it. It is a Pandora’s box of emotion and memory and yes I’m still holding on to that last little bit of hope that someday, somehow I will get it all sorted out. Just over two months since I lost so much, once again. I’m always losing; I need to keep a better hold on my loved ones. (I’ve collected myself a new family to fill the void, please don’t take them too.) Everyday is a game of strategy. Keeping back a tidal wave. Using the mundane to keep myself in check. Work out a routine, do what has to be done, keep it all together, even though it kills a completely different part of me.
# sing me something soft @
12:17 AM
0 sang
