Today I woke thickly, slushed out of the bed and confused my way into the kitchen, looking for evidence of meaning. Is the roommate here? Am I supposed to do something? Did a thing happen? Why am I?
I can’t seem to wake, can’t seem to wrap my brain around whatever is missing, can’t shake the molasses of doom. Maybe I should call home and make sure all is well. Maybe I shouldn’t have been thinking about those things last night. Maybe I dreamt weird. Head and lungs seem dried out finally but I still can’t taste anything–this is sickness without the sick? I hate not tasting anything and would not like for life to stay this way. Food is way too squishy when I can’t taste it.
Here is the song I’m currently trying to crawl inside of; it is amazing how much music suddenly makes me feel again. I see now how much that wasn’t happening for a few years there. Coming out of grief is like breathing again.