I went out on Saturday night and had fun, real fun. I really laughed, I drank, I danced, I actually enjoyed myself. It was the first time in 6 months where I actually felt a shred of happiness.
Sure, from the outside it seems like I’m ok, that I’m holding it together. I’m numb, I’m busy, I’m putting this whole thing off. I don’t want to feel this awfulness, this empty sick feeling, so I pretend like it’s all ok. I think I do it so that maybe I will convince myself that it is true. I just keep making lemonade and I have to be honest, I’m sick of fucking lemonade!!
My friend lost her cousin tonight. Her cousin has twin baby girls that she spent such a small time of her life being able to love. I actually wrote to her that ‘no one should ever lose their mother or their child.’ Then I read what I wrote and realized I was talking about myself. I am only 34 and I have already lost two of the most important people in my life. This wasn’t supposed to happen again to me, I already had my tragic story. It all just seems so unfair and futile.
Sunshine, Angels and Rainbows 