a falling apart kind of day

i don't have any poems nor any little stories. this is just straight forward writing.

i've had a bad day. i didn't want to get out of bed. once i did, i tried, i really tried, but i kept crying. i'm still lethargic late this afternoon. i feel so very sad. this is one of the worse days i've had in, oh, God, i cracked my first smile. see writing does help. it puts things in perspective. this is the worst day i've had in about two weeks.

i had momentum. i really did. my cough is dying out and i've had a few days of great progress. but today, i have only worked for a few hours. i am the worst boss i've ever worked for. i work myself for anywhere from 12 to 15 hours a day. i'll work until very late. but today, i'm slogging through so much grief and sorrow that it's like quicksand.

i see homes through the trees behind my apartment all lit up with Christmas lights. there is a commercial on television that i can't get away from. a man and a woman are standing in front of their big picture window at their beautiful log cabin lake house. there is a terrible storm outside and when a sudden flash of lightning drives the wife into her husband's arms, he says to her, "hey, it's all right. i'll always be here."

and i always say to the television, "don't make promises you have no control over being able to keep."

my Dragon promised he'd never leave me. and i worry, yeah, i've said it, one of my fears is that he died in pain and so terribly afraid, for me and for himself. it's eating me up inside today. i'm trying to fight against my own mind. it's that locked trunk i keep in the closet that rattling. i know what's locked in there. all my fears and worries that will ruin me if i let them get out.

so i'm trying to focus on my island. it has a dusting of snow on it, just like it did this time last year. i'm going through all my photos that are still on the computer and trying to get them burned off so that they are safe. i can't lose any of them. they are my past. they are of the places where i was when i was happy. they are of all the places i was while he was alive.

i wish there was someone i could call to come over and sit with me so i could talk about him. there are so many little stories i could tell. i feel like i could call "jude," "supa," Suddenwidow," and Boo and any one of them would rush right over with a sack of hamburgers and thick milkshakes, but even if they started now, the burgers would be cold and the shakes mushy. in other words, the people i've "met" who would come do not live within even 250 miles of me.

so it is to here that i come on this darkening late afternoon. i am alone as i always am and, most likely for the unforeseeable future, always will be. i'm weary and i wish i could crawl into his lap and lay my head down and sleep. i want to feel his legs behind my head. i want to feel his hands on me, caressing me, relaxing me. i want to close my eyes and listen to the low murmur of this voice.

i want him.

so i'll close my eyes and click my heels and say, "there's no place like home. take me to my island. take me home."

*sigh* i'm still here.