I’m weeping from my this place in my heart I don’t remember feeling before, and I can’t sleep.  I’m really, really sad right now about something painful and personal and I just don’t want to sit in my little rocker on the front porch alone right now because it’s almost 2am and I just heard strange noises outside.

I do my best to be optimistic, hopeful, and positive, but the reality is, that this life is hard.  I’m not even going to flower it up with a better word.  It’s just plain hard sometimes, and that’s all there is to it.  I hate that I have to be such an intense person sometimes and so sensitive. I hate that I care so much.  Why do I have to care so much?  Why can’t I be more surface?  Plenty of perfectly good and fine people operate on a more surface level and do just dandy.  I’ve had to practice the art of chit chatting about the weather, handbags, recipes, t.v. shows.  I’m pretty good at now, actually, and I don’t even mind it here and there.

On the other hand, it’s been awhile since I’ve had the kind of cry that breaks my soul wide open exposing every nerve ending.  I’m actually glad it’s raining outside, the steady rain that both acknowledges me and reminds me that all things have a cycle of renewal, and that maybe, someday, my heart will be okay again.

Yesterday was my father-in-law’s birthday.  He died six years ago.  He was intense too, and wickedly funny, and while we had our moments, being quite alike, the respect and utter enjoyment I had for and because of him was immense.  I miss him so much.

Hot tears are still spouting and burning my cheeks, and the rain flows.

It’s quite something to feel so alive, now isn’t it?

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