Comfortably Numb XI

I spent the next several weeks writing everything I could think of, spewing it all out onto paper and then having the nerve to type it out. There's a feeling of power and relief when you can pour out your demons and negative thoughts, it gives the illusion of control.

I love the spot where I write even though it looks over at the neighbours. I never saw my neighbours again, they sold their house and now I look at new faces...but I don't care to know them yet. One day, in passing with a mutual friend of theirs I learned that my old neighbour passed away only a few weeks prior...I didn't ask how or what happened, I just put my head down and walked away. He and I were very close, we spent most of our days together renovating our homes, grocery shopping and just hanging out and enjoying our friendship. I instantly missed him and felt sick that his demons may have gotten to him again and this time was too strong. I haven't forgotten about my own but these days I am able to keep them under lock and key...although I have been known to visit them from time to time.

Another day, another death...and we all keep going...

Comfortably Numb X

I'm at the part in my life where all the people who were around when I was growing up are dying...some it's for the best and others I will never stop missing. This part feels so difficult because it's not even until now that I'm discovering who I am and what I want and now life piles on death and despair to wade through. It's easy to get stuck here, to just put the auto pilot back on and stop trying to pave your own road and fade back in with the masses.

I sat down at my kitchen table and opened my computer...I don't think I can ever go back into society's expectation box again. My greatest therapy is writing and just like everything else I will write until I feel better...I must have thousands of stories to tell...

Comfortably Numb IX

I didn't realize how difficult it would be to go home. The neighbours we once knew were gone and I can't really remember who they were...it's funny how a traumatic event can wipe away memories like they never even happened, take away people you forgot you ever knew. My father passing wasn't nearly as traumatic as him living, watching him suffer and beg for the sweet release of death, now all I held was a few mementos I grabbed that would help solidify his memory into mine. I didn't miss him the way I thought I would, I guess after years of watching someone you love descend into death you learn to miss, or perhaps remember, the best parts of them rather than the last of them. Every little trinket I took was from memories all the way back to my early childhood...that's where my father was the strongest man in the world, my protector and hero. I keep them in a small box, its's where I go to think about him and breath him back into my life for a few more minutes.

I finished unpacking and placed the little box on the top of my closet. Life feels different to me now and I don't know what that means. Death feels so permanent and now, more than ever, I want to live my life for me...