Offerings

I have a great support system. Even those who don't know what's wrong know that I'm hurting. And they all want me to sit down and have tea and talk with them; they all want to help me, to make things better.

And I too want that, more than almost anything else. But there's nothing they can do, nothing that that can help.

The only person I really want to talk to about all this is Paul. The only person I really want to hold me and hug me and comfort me is Paul. The person I want to be able to have make things feel better is Paul. And he wants that too, more than anything, he says.

But he can't fix it either.

It's broken, it's broken, it's broken.

Everytime I see the unmussed side of my bed, I cry. Everytime I see the futon in the nursery, I cry. Everytime I try to talk to someone, I cry. Everytime I think about what's happening, I cry. I wake up, remember, and cry. If I sleep long enough to dream, I'm sure that I'm crying in my dreams.

It's Halloween. The wind is brisk and the colorful leaves are falling fast and hard. I've always felt like fall is the best time for melancholy. What a gluttonous feast I'm having this season.