Paper journal entry
"Are we happy plastic people under shiny plastic steeples, with walls around our weakness and smiles to hide our pain..."
Sometimes it just hits like this.
Charlie heard the catch in my breath and asked what was wrong. I said, "It just hit me."
Enough said. He gets it.
For once, I'm trying to allow it. I could find a taped program to watch or plug in my ear buds and get lost in music... even writing by hand on paper could be an escape as the pain it causes provides an easy direction to shift focus.
I can't rip off this band aid quickly or easily, letting my fingers fly over a keyboard... so slow and laborious it is.
And in between, fight the walls instinct throws up to stop the tears.