024

As I read my journal, this passage strikes me, and there will be no sleep tonight.

"It is March 26, 2015.  Today is the second day.  We are about to go to psych services together.  I wonder whether or not it will help at all.  It feels like I’ve lost my whole identity.  I don’t know how to let go of you, but I know I must, because each day is closer to the last day, which I believe will approach rather quickly.   You whispered “I love you” to me while at psych.  You reached and held my hand as we walked.  You kissed me hello and goodbye.  You pulled my chair closer to you when I sat.  I wish I knew what it all meant.  I wish I knew who you were.  More than anything, I wish I didn’t know what is to come.  I’m going to lose you, and that will be my greatest regret."   

As I press ever closer to great change, I wonder how many years it will take before I turn and realize that this change was for the best, or if that day will ever come.  I remember being sentenced, I remember being away for so long, feeling such loss.  But that led me here, maybe this will lead me somewhere happier, somewhere better.  My life has always been intimately tied to extremes, I've not known how to live within the first standard deviation.  If it were my decision, everyday would be different, but it is not my decision. So the days feel wasted, and life again fades unto gray.  I find myself buried in the text again, hiding from the colors that were once my world, as if they never existed at all. Sometimes it rages through my mind and heart, tearing everything in its path apart, and sometimes it makes me smile, knowing that few people get to live as I have lived, to love as I have loved.  I suppose it makes me happy as it makes me sad.  Live long,

Spatter