Metaphorical loss is a hard thing to write about, because at some point rationality makes even less sense than irrationality and the sane part of your mind can’t figure out why the ache has settled somewhere so deep in your heart you can’t even find it, much less save it. How do you make it stop? Why did everything start sinking in the first place? I can realise, acknowledge and interpret most things, but it doesn’t mean I’ll ever understand it. Much less come to terms with anything. There are too many steps to acquiescence, I don’t know if I have the motive to figure out how and when and why, or the most important —- where now? Love, in its purest and most platonic form, might be the essence of this damned sensation. Who do I seek to blame or beg : to insist that I am too small, too afraid and too delicate to try to figure this one out?   

There must be some way to invert it all, replace reality with a dream and maintain that these daily motions don’t matter and the real world begins when you lay your head down to sleep. Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to take, If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen. Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. His Love to guard me through the night, and wake me in the morning’s light. It’s all topsy-turvy now, and I can’t seem to find my collection of clichés to reassure me that this is all happening because it’s supposed to. When I was a little girl, my mama told me that if you make a wish and it doesn’t come true, then it’s either because that wish might have hurt you or because something even more magical is on its way. Je te crois Maman, I believe you but only because I see it all around me but that magic keeps a safe distance from my soul. Winter seems to have stolen the light, I can’t find it, it’s hiding, where are you? 


Ready or not, here I come.

PS. ( God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, The courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. )

PPS. And the spirit and tenacity in locating the effort to do so.
PPPS. And the desire to pick myself up, again and again and again.
PPPPS."You think relationships are difficult? Try friendships. Try courting someone in order to convince them to join you in some nameless, shapeless Platonic complication — forever. Convince an adult stranger that you are worth a healthy slice of their limited time and energy without the prize of sex or romance." — Laura Jayne Martin