bondo

I have a hard time sleeping. It eludes me, an orchid that won't bloom.

Today. Today was bound to happen sooner or later. It started off a little off.
Typically, I get woken up. And today I didn't. After getting out bed, I
rubbed my eye and found some clothes. I was mad: it's not fair to
change the rules on someone without telling them. I recovered.

I swim, lap after lap. The pool, in the morning, is full of sunlight. I swam particularly well today. During my final lap— the: "ohh I think I'll do one more" lap— I broke my watch. My father's watch. Broke and can't fix and won't ever
get to wear it again. I have been missing him so much. When someone
dies they are gone. I know that sound simplistic, it is. I never knew I
had a place, shaped just like my father, in my chest. Now, it just sits
there, empty. There is nothing fair about who death chooses. But there
are times I wish I could cry and not feel guilty, weird, alone. It
doesn't matter if their mine, yours or anyone elses: emotions,
for most, are too much. Especially a raw grief. I don't want to be
comforted, there is none. Just finding the space to be with people who
understand the inexplicable rock in my gut, fire in my throat, salt in
my nose. Mementos are just that, reminders. A photo of
a whale will never impress upon me the majesty of the creature. Being
in a boat and watching it's body lift from the depths, will.

Better now