Today, the weather is making allowances for what would otherwise be "unspeakable grief". It is like a warm mother holding me in her arms and whispering "let it out, my child, let it out...". And I really want to.
I woke up this morning with a deep, dismal groaning inside me. It roused me from sleep by twisting my guts with a slow and methodical pace. I imagine it's the type of feeling one experiences when waking up on the first day after an apocalypse. That hopeless desperation that chokes what should be a scream or a wail. The aimless but frantic roaming of the eyes as they dart across as many points as possible looking to cling to the first thing that makes sense.
The sky is leaky and a monochromatic gray. No matter how much it releases, it is still full. Stuffed with fluffy matter stored up from an unknown place. And I'm not certain how mine got full either. But it is. And it all needs to come out.
But how? Despite refreshing my approach to blogging, I'm still at a crossroads when it comes to displaying emotional vulnerability in a public place like this. It's not to deny its existence because we all have it but there is a time and place for everything. Maybe I'm just not ready. But I will get it out somehow. I have to. Otherwise, it will totally demolish me.
I'm also about three days away from the part of my cycle that begins and ends in bloodshed so I should probably factor that in, too.
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