Thursday, January 23, 2014

Broken Stuff

All day, little tiny crackling sounds in my, what is that? My heart? My mind? My soul? And tonight I considered the word shattered, over and over. And I wondered if shattered was the same thing as depressed. But I decided it was it's own thing. It's own special thing. A sadness so deep it breaks everything on the surface into pieces that scatter and reflect back and moanhowlbawl.

Went to put the hemp milk on the shelf in the cupboard above the sink and KAPLOWIE!!! a shattering of glass fell to the floor as the shelf just gave way. I stood in the corner, barefoot, silenced, stunned, frozen. Tiny steps at a time I walked through it to the place where my shoes were and I was safe.

For the moment.


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