Stories My Blog Photos Links About me

2007-04-24

Loss of Someone I Loved

"If the truth doesn't save us, what does that say about us?" -- Lois McMaster Bujold

Okay, so Lizzie pointed out to me that Sheryl was kidding about the toilet paper. David said, "Well, you never know with celebrities." So now it's still up in the air as to whether or not she's ever had her period. Back to square one.

This morning someone I loved very much passed away. Between yesterday and this morning, I have cried my eyelids swollen. All that water I've been drinking. I'm surprised there's any liquid left in me, but there goes another one, following the newly worn path down my cheek. And another. What is it that is so cleansing, so carthartic, about tears? It feels like they're washing my face, when really they're just leaving snail trails of salt deposits.

I can't bear to write about him now. But I will.

For now, I will allow this loop in my head to run its course: I hope you knew how much I loved you. I hope you knew how much I loved you. I hope you knew how much I loved you. I hope you know...

-Barbarella

previous | next

2007-04-30
New Pictures of me and other interesting people

2007-04-30
Hibernating

2007-04-26
Links and Deep Thoughts

2007-04-24
Waltzing Matilda

2007-04-24
Loss of Someone I Loved

Copyright © 2004 divabarbarella.com All Rights Reserved about me - read my profile! read other DiaryLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!


San Diego Bloggers

Subscribe to BarbarellasBookClub
Powered by groups.yahoo.com
Loss of Someone I Loved 2007-04-24 10:22 a.m. "If the truth doesn't save us, what does that say about us?" -- Lois McMaster Bujold

Okay, so Lizzie pointed out to me that Sheryl was kidding about the toilet paper. David said, "Well, you never know with celebrities." So now it's still up in the air as to whether or not she's ever had her period. Back to square one.

This morning someone I loved very much passed away. Between yesterday and this morning, I have cried my eyelids swollen. All that water I've been drinking. I'm surprised there's any liquid left in me, but there goes another one, following the newly worn path down my cheek. And another. What is it that is so cleansing, so carthartic, about tears? It feels like they're washing my face, when really they're just leaving snail trails of salt deposits.

I can't bear to write about him now. But I will.

For now, I will allow this loop in my head to run its course: I hope you knew how much I loved you. I hope you knew how much I loved you. I hope you knew how much I loved you. I hope you know...