Still

I've forgotten how to do, that which sustains me. Having been drained of every once of passion I had two months ago.
Writing is my life blood, my holiness, my reason.

One more day of "Final Day Sales" and then I'm free.
What is left of me, that hasn't been taken already.

I'm sad, empty, drained of all joy...at this very moment.
Too tired to share my son's Christmas, he shares it with no one.
Waiting for Mama to say "Now".

Let myself get sick, taking care of everyone BUT me.
Sleep. I could sleep for a week.
Oh please let the bonus come soon, it's hard to be hungry on top of exhausted.
I am full of self-pity.

Is anyone still there?

Comments

[Stef]

I'm here! (raises hand high, waving vigorously)

Bend my ear... shoot me an email. I've probably been there...

[Jonathan]

Hang on while I tilt my radar sized ears towards Oklahoma.

Some of us never left.