real

I want to be profound. To write about things that make people sit back and ponder how someone could have strung those words together into "that" thought. But the bottom line is, I'm not feeling profound. In fact, I'm not really feeling anything at all.

Things have been eerily silent in my world for almost a week now. At first I wasn't bothered, as I figured it would end eventually. And then I was really saddened by the silence. I was angry. And now, I'm nothing. Guess I've been working through the stages of grief, and I'm not even sure (1) what I'm grieving about and (2) if there's really anything to grieve at all.

Now, in the aftermath, as the emotions have worn down and the ashes are cold, I have this nagging fear. What if in dealing with this "death" as it were I lost the strength to dream again? Will I ever be able to have that kind of dream? And what did all of this mean? I know it wasn't for nothing, and that nothing is lost, but I'm feeling a bit lost myself, wondering when the lesson will show its face and I'll be able to see what this has all been about. Because right now it just feels like an excruciatingly long lesson in being abandoned. And I thought I'd already learned that one.