Unpredictable Creature

When this journey began three and half years ago the anguish that filled my soul was so intense and so encompassing, there was nothing that could enter my mind but the horror of death and the absence of life. My soul was engorged with grief. It seemed writing was my balm, an outlet to share my hurt and the cathartic flow of words somehow released the pain. Yet now, words have no solace.

Now, the grief is different, its changing to a more erratic and unpredictable creature that tucks neatly in the center of my life, lurking for the opportunity to jump in my face and throw me back to the reality of death. It's very sinister using hope as a weapon. Being blanketed in sorrow was easier, knowing nothing but sadness is simple; living with grief and weaving it into the fabric of life is daunting.

Just when you think your moving forward, grief attacks and the silence of life's emptiness booms in my head. Hope dissipates. I understand why people do it, why they take that step to end the pain. I really do understand it. The pain strikes with such force, again and again and again. How much of this can a body take? How much torment can the mind endure? This grief digs in the hollow of your heart and scrapes the sides of the wounds rendering forward all the hurt and sorrow that was so neatly pushed aside.

So, I walk this life with mediocrity knowing I despise each and every step. My thoughts race toward what I do and why, and what I don't do and all the excuses I can give for not. Paralyzed by fear, I can't move toward the freedom I crave. I want to spread my wings and fly to wherever I may land, yet grief and fear intertwine and stifle any wind that would shuttle me forward.

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