The morning after
Today is the day after. The day after she broke my heart again. The day after she told me she does not read these words. It's just as well. So many of them are raw, ugly, malignant. But, I had hoped she would see the loveliest of them — the love letters. Those were bright spots amidst the carnage. Those symbolized her in my life. My blog is many things. But mostly, it's like a little kid trying to put together a puzzle. He rearranges, turns things around, gets up, walks away, gets angry, laughs, tries to stand on his head, all to figure out how the pieces fit together. It's kind of a schizophrenic approach, I admit. It's just me trying to figure things out. This woman I love is by far the most puzzling piece. Today I didn't go to the store early as I normally do. Today I stayed in bed, too depressed to even think of stepping out onto the cold floor and fumbling around in the dark to start a day I just wished would go away. It's one blow after another. An...