God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Friday, February 17, 2006
When I got home from work today I went straight to my room, locked the door and laid on my bed, not bothering to change clothes or take off my thick boot socks. I laid there, staring at the ceiling, my room full of light from the window.
I felt tired. I felt... lost.
I felt cold, too. Dazed, I looked up at my air conditioner and found it be on. Weird. I don't remember turning it on.
My head hurt.
I sat up and grabbed my fleece blanket from the end of the bed and curled myself up underneath it. I snatched my teddy bears from their pedestal at the top of my bed and hugged them to me.
Usually hugging them bears would comfort me, lull me to sleep, or better yet help me vent whatever frustration I had. But it was different this morning.
There were no tears. None at all. It worries me because I used to cry a lot. Crying gives me the release I need. Somehow it lessens the pain and clears my head. A cleansing ritual if you may.
And now, the tears don't come at all.
It's scary because all I feel is the pain but I can't let it out. My throat tightens when I feel the urge to spill the beans to people I trust.
Numb, I am.
So tired of waiting for you. Of wanting you.
Of missing you.
To borrow a line from AJ, you are my favorite mistake.