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Leadfill The Hole In Me

August 18, 2014

Limb by limb and tooth by tooth
Tearing up inside of me
Every day every hour
I wish that I was bullet proof

Dear Sister Midnight. For five years you’ve been my outlet, a source of comfort, a root of my old self. It has been wonderful. But it has been lagging. I’ve tried catching up and dating back posts, obsessing more over the “one post minimum per month” than actually writing here like I did before. So in my old style, I will try and sort this post into the neat points that I’m trying to make. (Knowing, of course, that I’ll probably ramble off somewhere in the latter part, but let’s try.)

First of all, I’ve been happy. Yes, I know, I’ve probably been over this before too. But I’ve been happy, my life has been good, and there’s no point in denying that sad stuff makes for better writing material. All the badly veiled metaphors, not-so-discreet hints, the whole shebang… Well, there’s not much fun in writing that when everything is fine and things are running smoothly. Of course, I wish with all my heart that I could put out more of my writing (of the more non-personal kind), but I just think this blog is not it for that. (Anymore. Or anyway. Something.)

Another aspect of it all is that the internet is a different place in 2014 than it was in 2009. Well, duh. “Blogging” is not nearly the same thing it was back when I started this blog, and while I have no need to adjust to that, I must be frank and admit that I feel kind of ridiculous with this blog hanging around. Of course, I would never think of deleting it, that would be like burning my written diaries, and I could never ever do that. I love this blog for being just that – a window back into my past (…that is thankfully past). But I just don’t “feel it” anymore.

Furthermore, there’s something I feel burdened by, that should get it’s own post but that I’m simply unable to make. Tøffen’s death. It’s only three days since I found him, and I know that I haven’t even begun to properly process it all. This is (…was? How can you ever adjust to saying that? I will never be able to think in the past tense about him.) my baby we’re talking about, I know it’s incredibly naïve to think but I have never imagined my life without him. I knew of course that the inevitable would happen some time, but I always pictured it as far away in the future, when I was maybe 30 years old and had a house and kids and other things to worry about. I have pictured him there in my very roughly sketched 5-year-plan, made arrangements for him so that he will have a place to stay in between moving, until I get a place where I am actually allowed to keep him.

And then I come home and I find him and he’s not alive anymore. How are you ever prepared for that? How can you possibly, possibly ever get over the shock of finding your baby bunny, who you’ve cared for since he was 1 month old and fit in the palm of your hand, dead in his cage, all alone? The horror of the realisation, the absolutely lung-crushing and kneejerking shock and horror of that realisation? It’s just. I don’t know. Friday was a nightmare, the rest of the weekend surreal. I went all Saturday and Sunday without crying, after keeling over from exhaustion from all the tears and gasping for air on Friday. But though the tears were absent (possibly due to the numbness and incredibility of the situation), there appeared – and still appears – to be in the corner of my eye: just like in the novel Sula where Nel is seeing this little grey ball dancing around the edge of her vision and realises after a long time that it’s the grief of losing Sula, so do I see something in the periphery, constantly there but not getting too close either. Now the metaphor doesn’t work so well on me since I obviously know what the grey ball is, but I’m too afraid to let it get too close and look at it. I don’t want to. Yet.

So, this is goodbye for now. I have decided to take a stand instead of feeling guilt over not posting here, so as to focus on my life in all its happiness, and on my grief in all its sadness. That’s life in a nutshell, and you have just got to deal with it. But maybe not with the overhanging guilt of a blog you’re not really interested or inspired to keep alive. I won’t say that I’ll never return, but if I do, it’ll be out of inspiration, not guilt.

Thank you to all of you who have been in here once or more over these past five years, I won’t pretend that I don’t know that it’s no one, but if you see this in ten years and the internet hasn’t crashed for lack of space and this post still stands when you enter, this is for you. Thank you.

[Song: Bullet Proof, I Wish I Was | Artist: Radiohead]

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