Monday, October 3, 2011
I don't really know how to say what I'm trying to say, so I'll jump to my default which is using crude shapes to poorly explain the map of my brain. I wish there was an endpoint, a final destination, for how I process death... that when I landed on the shaky ground that barely qualifies as acceptance, I was able to stay there. It's not a nice place to be but it's better than the alternative. Instead the cycle starts all over again and I obsessively dwell on what will never be, what could be, what won't be known. The light at the end always leads back to dark. If anyone has an instructional manual on how to vanquish needless worry and premature regret I'm all ears.