You ask me almost every week, and I just meet your confusion with my own.
I started writing this before my husband died. I watched him die. I feel like I killed him.
It will be two weeks tonight.
I don’t have anything poetic to say. He used to always ask me how I got to be so tough, but I…don’t think I’m tough enough to keep going without him.
I hate life so much.
I keep seeing him die over and over again. It comes out of nowhere. I’ll be fine. I’ll be numb. I’ll be going about the tasks set in front of me to get through each day, and it comes out of nowhere.
It came out of nowhere.
I’m so fucking stupid. Fuck.
and so we meet again 