It has been months.
I picked my soul apart, folded it over and came face to face with hideous emotions that are not of this realm. Some things agitate the heart, some eat away at it but this violated all of my faculties. I cannot even begin to comprehend the way these revelations ruffled my peace, disturbed and re-arranged my soul.
All I could do is medicate, sleep and pray and even then, I began to weaken in prayer. There are days when the cloud obscured everything and I could do is drag my being to where it needed to be… work, friends etc. There are days when the cloud would lift but it remained dark enough to keep me in the grips of the cool hand of grief reminding me that some things cannot be escaped, at least not easily or soon.
So here I am sitting in another vehicle, journeying to another place. Not yet healing, not shattered in pieces but still broken at the vital points in the centre of winter.
I guess my hands tremble and feel weightless because of the loss.
I’m dragging it today.
It is sitting in between panic raggged breaths, pauses and conversations. The morning tremble has invaded the day. Maybe the hot and cold feeling is emptiness coursing through my veins.
I am so empty.
I could not write for the majority of this week, mornings are brutal. They start of with a severe panic attack, reminders and this heavy emptiness. I can feel the emptiness in my hands as though I lost something so fundamental to my existence. I don’t know what to do.
I am still bloated with disappointment and hurt that won’t leave my veins. My soul is disturbed. It has been a trying week. I keep retracing back to how and when it all fell apart. I am shocked how someone can love you and seem sacrificial one minute and then abandon you like that and never look back. I am humiliated for putting myself and this fragile heart of mine on the line, I feel disposable and ruined. Tell me how I can rationalise these unfortunate events. Tell me how.
This night made a difference. I went out and did what I love to do, hanging out with creatives. My heart broke every second but it created a shift in my routine. It gave me the ability to step outside of myself and my isolation.
I cannot remember much from this day, all I recall is the finality of it all. The calm in our words, when the fight stops and the scream turns into a yawn. I remember eating this horrid pizza in front of him, our last meal together. I also remember the strangeness as we walked, for a year, my hands were always clasped with his when we walked. He was like a stranger I still recognize and loved despite the betrayal, lies and the abandonment. It hurts you see, even in the death, I was still wide-eyed, I still held a candle lit for this man but he was already gone. There was finality in the silence, finality in the calm. My stomach hurt, my body hot and cold. I mourned right there, the loss of warmth, the loss of familiarity and ritual. The loss of what I thought was a remarkable and irrevocable union. I mourned and yet had not shed a single tear. My body mourned.