O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers
—Titus Andronicus
I lost my life as I knew it, piece by piece, over days and weeks and months. Now things will never be the same. In moments of crisis, everything has been distilled; what’s gone is gone forever, and what remains is what I will carry for the rest of my life.
And as the threads unraveled, I tore myself from the world away, my face unable to bear the burden to others.
Also, some might call that a good thing.
Of course, when you put it that way, change sucks. It always does. But when everything you know is torn away from you, and all that’s left is yourself. It means only one thing.
It’s your world, with your own rules, driven only by your own will to make things happen. The way I see it, things can only start getting better from here on end.
New chapters in life with unknowns to traverse. How’s that not one hell of a game to play?
I can’t tell what the future is going to hold. At best, I think it could be either good or bad, but what I most often feel now is the loss of what I had. It’s so hard to think of new opportunities when I’m overwhelmed by that.