In the end.

What are you thinking she asks?

There is no answer. Only the silence that she has now come to know.

What happened to all the words?

It seems they were ripped violently from this plane

only to be absorbed by black matter that will never let them go.

Where is the laughter? Why has it died away? Were there no watering holes to fuel it’s liquid needs?

What of the tears?

They have dried and formed small hills of salt on the plains of her existence.

Where is the proof of lovely times past?

It has disappeared like invisible ink.  Only to be seen again when acidic juice falls upon the pages. Revealing what was but is no longer.

What of the heart?

It wills upon itself scar tissue, in the hope of covering open wounds.

But it wasn’t all bad. Right?

 

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It finally hit …

It’s official, exhaustion is mine.

It seems like the past five months have lasted a year.

There has been heartache, surgery and an all around effort to help others (constantly).

It hit me (out of the blue) how much I have to do in the next month.  And, I suddenly feel somewhat overwhelmed and apprehensive (even though it’s all going to bring me to a lovely place).

I have kept myself so busy all these months that I literally haven’t had the time to think (it’s a great tool and much undervalued in life).

I’ve also spent very little time at home in the past three months(great for my energy bill bad for relaxation).  So, when I arrive there on Wednesday, I have allotted myself approximately two days to do nothing.

This nothingness should include – doing nothing – sleeping – reading – catching up on recorded shows on my DVR – one on one puppy time and sleeping (did I mention that already?).   After the two days expire I will begin the real work.  Packing my entire home, reducing my belongings, finding movers and finding storage.

Here’s a little known fact:

I don’t do well under this kind of pressure (Truth be told I am a girl who requires a bit of supervision at times).

The good thing is that I am aware of my shortcomings.

The bad thing is there is nothing I can do to make it better (lists you say? I lose them. Trust me).

I’ve already begun dreaming about losing my little dog, only to find her later bubble wrapped and packed in a box marked valuables. No. Really.

What’s a girl to do?

Does anyone have a magic wand or a sprinkling of pixie dust?

Rant over.

Carry on.