Ears still ringing in the silence. So quiet, so still, this deafening pressure of nothing. I struggle, but not with a sense of hopelessness. For me there is always hope, but for some reason, it is the desired end that eludes me. There is hope, but hope for what? I rest my head in my hands, and look down at my feet, or at the floor and ask myself “what is this for?”. An overwhelming sense of sadness sweeps over me, like a cold blanket, and I close my eyes trying to see, trying to understand why. As always, I try to rationalize the uncharacteristic thoughts and feelings, but to no avail. I must simply remain cloaked in that blanket until it is lifted by some unknown hand, or simply have it fall with the fleeting passage of time. Such things I find difficult to articulate because I find it difficult to accept the feeling itself.
Thurs Nov 4 2010 330AM