I Am.
Part of me is so very sick (and tired!) of all of this that I just want it to stop. And the only way to stop it is to pretend. To just move on. To clamp the mask(s) on tightly .... maybe even have one surgically attached. To stop thinking the past.... and about him. Because it still cuts like a knife to spend more than 2 seconds thinking about him: deeply and very, very sharply.
But a mask would protect me .... maybe not me, but it would DEFINITELY protect the people around me. They should be protected.
So I should keep the mask on and write funny stories for the blog .... I'm sure I have many, and skip off to work, and hang with my friends and laugh and shop and plan and laugh some more.
And then there's the part of me that feels very, very heavy. My arms are too heavy to lift. Even thinking a thought is sometimes way too heavy to accomplish. It's as if I'm laying on the floor and someone has placed a huge, black, iron weight on top of me. I'm trapped. It's hard to breathe, let alone put a mask in place.
But I'm too tired of all of it.
The mask, I think, would be easier.
Especially this week.
Easier for everyone.
Well, almost everyone.
The easiest thing for me would not be the best thing for everyone else.
And everyone else matters.
More.
So I'm off to choose the next mask.
Have a good day!
