I Am a Repetitive Ego-Maniac Grieving

Don’t go back and read your old blogs.  It’s really depressing.  How often I say the same things over and over again.  I mean, really.

I mean, fine, I am obsessed with making fun of therapists and convincing the world that going to therapy is stupid and I seem only to be able to do this by going to therapy and writing about it.  But, it is repetitive.  And I seem to brag about myself a lot.  Especially in comparison.

But the sad is…I probably can only say that I miss Don and I miss him and I miss him and the why I miss him doesn’t change and there aren’t really words for this anyhow.  Or these words:

There is a keyhole that hovers over

my right shoulder.  Behind it a wind hisses

and sighs.  Behind it the world is dark cloud and

sheets of fog that roil up against the sky as if

to erase it.  I can feel you, sucked up through

that hole, sucked past the dark, I can feel

you gone.  I can feel the you in the place you

used to be, I can feel your voice that does not

answer and I can feel you loving me, I can feel

this body of mine, this beating, this rupture, I can

feel when I don’t want to feel and the sleep that

does not come and I hope you are meeting yourself

as if for the first time, I hope you are discovering

whatever lost thing you left this world to find.


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