It's almost go time. In less than 12 hours I'll be taking the train to the bus to the beach.
I don't want to go. The idea of me sitting with my feelings just sounds so, so...fragile. Does this make me fragile? Apparently my sisters and Dad think I am. And I received an email from a friend today that seemed to support this version of me. When I read his email (and I know he meant well, so please don't be mad at me for saying this) I just felt so sad for the person he was talking about. You can imagine how disappointed I was to realize that person was me.
Maybe it's the lack of sleep that makes me write such pitiful blog entries, but I'm writing what I'm feeling and it's without prejudice. It's catharsis. It's breaking off a piece of my sadness and anger and then setting it free. And when I'm done with my writing, I can go on with my day with a lighter load.
There's this space between my words on this screen and what I am actually feeling. I know that it may not be obvious, but it's there.
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