Bread and Water

I don't know what to say. But I found myself watching television that has been expressly forbidden tonight, because I felt like if I didn't laugh, I would cry. Again. And this time, for a different reason than usual. Today I was almost that woman crying in the hippie chiro's office. I couldn't think at all. It was like there was this huge fog filling my head, preventing even the most simple and rudimentary thought processes from happening.

Grief. I lost maybe the only person who ever accepted me for who I am. The only person that never said, you should do this, or think this, or look like this, or be this. The only person I've never been mad at. The only person I ever knew that was truly humble. She talked so little about herself, I feel as if I barely knew her.

Suddenly I feel even more alone than I was before. It's like there's one less person rooting for me, always on my side, and there weren't that many to start with. The numbers are dwindling. This feels even more lonely because it's for good. There's no coming back. And also because I never gave anything back. I took it all for granted because I thought it would be there forever. But as the guy at work says: nothing is forever. I keep thinking coulda shoulda woulda, but there's really nothing I could do. It seems that guilt and grief are often linked in the little chain gang of not-so-fun emotions. Like bread and water.

But it's only because I will miss her.