index | archives | notes Tuesday, Sept. 21, 2021 6:52 a.m. << [ longest dark ] >> Having a baby and running an office in the middle of a pandemic hasn't left me much time to process my grief, but it finds me in the small moments. I try to catch sleep and the grief catches me, bubbling behind my eyes, shrinking my lungs. I count my losses, hands outstretched, folding fingers down one at a time. My father. My mother. Older younger brother. Younger younger brother. Best friend. Alleged best friend. Aunt. I count my chickens as they hatch into dust. I rationalize: they were never worth having. I never really had them to begin with, and I never would have kept them. In the end everybody dies anyway so really this is just a shortcut to the inevitable. I have sustained myself longer on less than this. I'm 33 now. It's been a long year. I'm so fucking lonely. << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org