This is me trying to take my blog back from the spectre of my dog's death. The sun is setting, and I'm sitting in my underwear waiting for the smoke to clear from the kitchen, trying to figure out what I'm going to wear for TV on Friday...and trying to take my blog back.
For months I've had inner monologues bursting out of my skull, desperate to escape and bore someone else. I've opened my blog so many times, but until today I could not find a good enough reason to hit 'New Post.' It was as if my nonsensical rambling about Edward's death was some kind of monument to him, and it was as if any new post would dishonor him.
What else could I possibly have to say?
How could I move on?
Eh, "move on" isn't really the right term. I don't think I have or will move on in some ways, but in the very concrete way of using my blog...I guess maybe I am moving on.
What We Found in the Divorce: Part V — Time
3 years ago