Thursday, March 1, 2012


Sometimes it's rough because you don't want to turn on the music. You don't want to run down that street, or bike in the Fall. Don't sit at the table by the window, don't want to watch that movie, can't drink that kind of tea. No more rockclimbing or hot tubbing. It's those things that you want to do, but you can't get over the fear of losing the memories, or making new ones in their place. Or it takes you to a place you don't want to be. You'd rather not remember. You can no longer play the piano for fun. No more stress relieving paintings.
So you run from the old and search for the new. Or try to.
And you tell people over and over again, almost to try to make yourself believe it.
"There is relief."
But secretly you're still waiting for it to come.

No comments:

Post a Comment