I woke up this morning with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes

on

I reached up to turn on the light then closed my eyes to try and sleep, but
it was no use and I tossed and jerked and jerked away from the memories of this
night. The memories were like the ocean rushing and roaring in the night but
they are much more frightening. Thoughts like…

When I was a child the ocean was a safe place to be. The wind was gentle,
the waves were calm and I could hear a mother calling out for her children.

No one ever died, for fear of drowning. The ocean never came alive and
surrounded me like an embrace. No matter how hard I tried to fight it I was
always there, always around me and always protecting me. My father would tell
me stories about a boy named Jake, a boy who would sail in a small boat and
always return safely. My father told me he couldn’t understand it; Jake kept
coming back.

Jake was the man that made me feel like I was there, I was there when he fell
and I was there when he rose to face another day. He reminded me of the life
we could have had, the life that never was.

What makes a home is made in memories and in hopes. They aren’t about the
present and the promises of tomorrow, they are about the stories of the past.
They are filled with the fears and the regrets. They are the things we remember
and forget to make us who we are. I remember, I cherish, I love, I cherish and
I love. The things I remember are as real as the things I forget. I hope the
things I loved are not lost in the time I forget. When I look at my children
I will not forget that I held one of them in my arms for the first time, and
that they have never forgotten how they felt when I held them in my arms for
the first time.

Our children are not who we become, they are not the stories we tell, they are not
the hopes we try to fulfill. We are made in their memories. We are bound to the
fear and we are bound to the desires.

When I look in the mirror and see the woman who looks back at me, she looks
different than I feel. She looks at me and I think to myself that she has her
own fears and desires for the life she wishes to lead. She looks at me like I
am a stranger and she looks back at me as though she has known me forever.

My heart breaks and I stand with a lump in my throat, tears in my eyes and a
tear in my soul. The ocean rushes and roars in the night but it’s not my
sadness that I recall, it’s my sadness of how it rushes and roars, of my loss
as I watch it drown and drown and drown.

The sound of rain hitting the roof and the cold and wet air is like a slap
to the face. I feel that cold rain soaking into my skin and the tears start
falling down. My heart feels heavy and full as I fight the tears that fall
uncontrollably from my eyes. How can it rain when it’s so cold and rainy? Why
does it rain when it’s so cold and rainy? Why don’t I want to get out of bed
it’s too cold and raining outside? Why doesn’t my mind want to wake up? Why
don’t I want to move from my warm bed? Why didn’t I think of that? Why was I
thinking in the past? Why wasn’t I thinking about now? My head hurts from
having a hard enough time sleeping and it hurts worst that I have not been
happy. I hope the rain brings relief from the pain of remembering what I can’t
forget. I hope the rain brings relief from the pain of remembering what I can’t
forget.

I feel the tears on my face and I wipe them away. They still fall and I cry
some more. The rain is cold and wet but I’m freezing inside. It’s cold and
wet outside in the city but I’m warm inside. It’s not enough, I don’t feel
enough warmth inside of me. I feel like I am not enough. It’s like I am
missing something- I don’t know what. I don’t know why I am missing this warm,
scented t-shirt. I don’t know why I am missing the feeling of a warm t-shirt.
Why am I missing this soft t-shirt? I don’t know why I am missing this warm
feeling of this soft shirt. I don’t know why I am missing… me.

I know I’m missing something, and I know I am not enough. I know I am not
enough, I know I am missing something, but I don’t know what. I know I am
missing something, my heart feels empty, it’s hurting, and it’s cold. I
know I’m missing something, but I don’t know what. I know I am missing
something, and I know I am not enough. I know I am not enough, I know I am
missing something, but I don’t know what. I know I am missing something, but
I don’t know what. I know I am missing something, my heart feels empty, it’s
hurting, and it’s cold. I know I am missing everything, but I can’t figure
out what.

Maybe I’m missing this. It’s not enough, it’s not even close. I don’t care
if my life is perfect. It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t know why I’m
missing. I don’t know what I’m missing. I don’t know what I’m missing.

I don’t know what I’m missing. I don’t know what I’m missing. I don’t know.

It’s not. It’s not. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

It’s not. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I don’t care.

Oh I don’t care.

I
don’t care. Don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care.
Don’t care. I don’t care. Don’t care. I don’t
care. Don’t care.

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