When I read your words on the monitor, insultingly written in shorthand, for a split second my lungs seem to stop working and I’m drowning, gasping for air – and then the tears come, unbidden, unwanted, but they come all the same. I slide down the door onto my bedroom floor and my body becomes a barrier to others, for the moment, until the storm in my mind settles to a gentle, steady rain. Then I will accept the embrace of those who mean well and will assist in soothing the dull ache you have left in my bones.
Couldn’t resist a follow up to the last post.
Thanks for stopping by 🙂