Loss is a strange motherfucker.
We talk about losing things a lot. Sometimes they're tangible; money, a pen, a pet, a person. Sometimes they're intangible; faith, hope, love, dignity. Which is worse? Hell, I don't know. I don't even know if "intangible" is a real word or if I just made that shit completely up. It's something I would do.
I feel a lot of loss lately, and the weird part is that I'm not even certain what I'm actually mourning here. Or if I'm even mourning it at all. Is there sadness in that bitterness and regret, or is it something else? Is this exhaustion of the soul simply proceeding my rise from the ashes, a phoenix in stilettos?
Fuck if I know.
I know, this blog is rambling and strange and emo and possibly a little off-putting. If I have no earthly idea what I'm trying to say, however will the seventeen of you that actually read this drivel?
And don't worry. This is random and strange, but not some odd internet manifesto before I off myself or something like that. That will never happen. I'm not broken. I still have worth. This I know.
But I miss things, both tangible and intangible, right now. So much so that sometimes the loss overwhelms me and I just want to cry. Fun fact: it's difficult for me to cry more than one or two tears in general lately. At least for things concerning me. For things like kidnapped or abused kids states away, or other people's losses, I can produce floods of them. For myself, they refuse to come. I find it hard to be vulnerable. This blog is probably as close as it gets, and I don't even know if I'll hit publish. I have about 7 other posts that I've started that remain in my edits because I just can't share whatever they are about. Too personal, too much, too painful.
So now I'll finish this, as confused as I started it. "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts never to heaven go."