What a gift it would be today to feel nothing. Not to be shaken by the nightmares that wreaked havoc on my sleep. Not to feel the heartache of love unrequited. To not feel the burn of being a fool, a trusting softhearted fool.
Sometimes I miss the old me, the one with the hard shell. The one with he black and biting humor that kept everyone at arms distance. The one who shoved her tears deep within her soul for no one to see.
Being home has softened me, dulled my defenses. My misguided hope that all creatures are capable of the love I possess in my soul. The veil that covered my light and vulnerability has been tucked away. Now, I am raw, broken and a hopeful simpleton that burns inside to feel the love returned that I put into the universe.
Tears have burned my eyes and cheeks more in the last few weeks than in years. I HATE it. Dig deeply beloveds. Find strength. Press on. This can't be all there is!
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