It’s too hard to try to piece together a life that has never had any consistency, a life so devoid of emotions and yet filled with such intensity. I left so many pieces of myself behind through this journey, pieces I used to want to hold onto. But now I don’t anymore. That’s both good and bad. It’s good because it means I can go on and not look back anymore. But it’s bad because those unspoken things will always haunt me in those moments when I let my guard down. And those moments will come, I know.
The same themes arise over and over again. It is about the creation of hope and the inevitable devastation of losses. It is about strength and courage which fades into weakness and cowardice. It is about grief, the never ending sorrow of just being conscious enough to be alive.
I was 20 years old when I wrote this: My grief is dark and violent It has no source….it comes from no where It just overwhelms me, catches me unguarded I am its slave.