I was trying to find something. A web page I ran across once, several years ago. It was a page about flow. I haven't been able to find that old web page, but I did find an old blog entry of mine that I must have written with that page in mind.
It doesn't make a difference, though, even though every spare instance of logical thought screams at you that it should make a huge difference, it simply doesn't. Not in the long run, anyway. You know what you know, and you feel what you feel, and the sad truth is that the two are not always complimentary.Or maybe it was some time later, when I wrote this drivel.
You find yourself forced to choose between the truth and the fantasy, but it's not such a daunting task, because there is no choice. The heart wins, every time without fail or even much hesitation, the heart wins.
The thing that I can't seem to get to stick in my head is that there's nothing I can do.I've noticed that, when I embed text into boxes like I've done above. The italics that I'd had in my original writing goes away. That makes me a little sad, because that emphasis really added to the flow of the words. It all seems rather flat to me without the italics.
I didn't do enough before. No matter how hard that is for me to accept. Even though I did so much, more than I'd have thought possible and more than most people would have done, I simply didn't do enough to be good enough.
During, I did too much. I was honest and forthcoming. Too much of each, because I was also hurting. In shock by the suddenness and the brutality of what was happening. I should have taken the time to let things digest. But, I didn't. I screwed up and I let my emotions take over. Oops, right?
And after? After, I don't know what's been going on. I've either been doing too much or too little or the exact right amount, but it doesn't matter, because it's been out of my hands, and it's still out of my hands, and I wish I could accept that fact instead of forgetting it every 10 seconds. Instead of always trying to do something, anything at all, to fix this.
Anyway, I used to always tell her to stop worrying, that I'd be okay, because I'd always been okay, in the past. I'd always bounced back, in the past.
Lately, I've been facing the very real possibility that I won't bounce back this time. That this just might be it for me. These are not particularly fun thoughts to be having, but I'm nothing if not honest with myself. Besides, I'm not sure I want to bounce back. I definitely don't want to forget, and I'm more than a little concerned that the former may lead to the latter.
I guess I'm a little bored today. I feel writey, but not very flowy.
I'm making up words, you see. That's almost never a good sign.