I wasn’t expecting the process of mourning to increase in intensity. I thought it’d be some zen like nirvana, but instead I’m wracked by uncontrollable bursts of tears, I feel like a bear with a sore head.
I am in isolation because I don’t fit the outside world, I’m too slow, my breath holds me up till the situation has moved on without me.
In my own time and space all are welcome and yet few want to be there.
I’m looking through so many veils that I am neither seen beyond my difficulties or can see beyond my difficulties.
the advice comes pouring in, to obfuscate the real.
Winter is still here.
I haven’t been out for two weeks.