The Way Things Are

I haven't been able to write. I've been blocked, completely. Nothing at all, not little snatches of poetry, not my thoughts or feelings. They've all been stuck inside me for a while now. And I find that scary. Because I've always been able to write. It's the one thing that could set me free, give me the release I couldn't find from talking to other people. Having that outlet cut off made me feel lost, like part of me was dammed. I don't feel like I have it back yet, but I'm clawing my way there.

Things have been happening lately that I didn't think would ever happen, and I don't know how I feel about them. And they all happen at once, or in a sequence that knocks me off balance and keeps me on my knees. Every time I think I've fought my way back to some semblance of equilibrium, something else comes at me and leaves me reeling. I've always wondered if it's my fault, and the way things are, I'm going back to believing it. I know I shouldn't. Things just.. happen.

It hurt when dad left. I cried myself to sleep and it makes me feel so - weak. I don't think I ever really had a hard shell, but at least I had the illusion of one. But I'll accept that, 'cause he's my father.

And then yesterday, I cried again. It's strange, this feeling of loss. I thought I'd get used to it. Maybe I will. But I don't want to, so why should I have to get used to it. Aren't we supposed to save the things that are important to us? But how do you know at which point it goes from saving something valuable to clinging in vain to something irredeemable?