Some of you may wonder if this blog is still active.
Well, it is - at least in the sense that I think about it on an almost daily basis. But you're right, of course. Not much writing going on.
I sometimes wonder if this is it - Am I done writing? Or is it just too painful right now, and will there come a day where I can just pick up the pen or hit the keyboard again, without the fear that everything will end up wet?
I don't know.
Right now, I can't face my feelings, black on white. It hurts enough as it is; no point in spelling it out - literally. I don't believe in the therapeutic value of writing the same things over and over again: I can't accept the way things happened, I can't find peace, the missing only gets bigger, the harshness of death is undescribable.
And that's it - that's my daily struggle - sometimes ending in tears, sometimes not, but always leaving me exhausted.
With one strong ray of light giving some sense to it all, one reason why I have to go on: the little man.
