I don’t know why, and would it make a difference if I did?
Anyway, this searing sorrow, the shock of the loss, the heartbreaking “it cannot be true” are not yet done with me.
Not sir, not by any stretch of the imagination.
Sometimes I dare think that I can have a normal life. The reason I think that is because I can smile, laugh at a joke, enjoy ice cream, even look at myself in the mirror and give myself the high-five for no longer looking like I am buried alive inside myself.
And then, I don’t know why, but just like that, I come unravelled. I am in danger of falling apart.
A volley of pain-like shots hits me square in the chest, and my heart feels like it’s burning.
So much for time being the best medicine, or is it laughter?
Either way neither time nor laughter has made this go away.
Did I not have experience on my side, I would die of fright thinking that this godawful hell is all I have to live for.
Oh Andrew, Andrew – Is there no rescue for us?