PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

help

Sunday, Dec. 29, 2002
I feel like I should document this but then again somehow I feel like I canít. Like I canít put words to this many emotions. I only know that right when you think that life will not hand you anything you have not seen or been through before, it will laugh in your face and hand you just what you thought couldnít possible exist. Something worse.

I know that I need to be strong and grow up and accept and deal but thereís something mentally going on behind the scenes that just wonít allow me to. Something bigger than me, something I have been fighting for years. Tomorrow I am going to call and get help. Help from somewhere.

The walls are sighing in big ways and the life Iíve always known is crumbling.

There is a bond. Itís called 11 years of going through life together. Wrong or right, there is a bond and there is a love that wails around on the floor like a fish out of its tank, and we stand horrified watching trying to breath for it, but neither of us has tried to pick it up.

The fact of the matter is, he is dying. And it breaks my heart. Because I have one.

And my son is taking a trip to grandmaís house, and now he has a reason to be happy about something this week.

God help me.
10:59 p.m. ::
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