Broken

I’m feeling better today. I have the energy and desire to actually get out of bed. But that just may be because I want French toast and bacon from the breakfast/brunch place 10 minutes away…

When my grandmother died, something inside me broke. And I don’t know when, or if, it will be repaired.

I don’t know if I want it to be repaired.

I’m not that sweet, helpful woman I once was who was almost constantly trying to make new friends.

And I don’t miss her.

I’ve been good most of my life and it hasn’t gotten me anything. I’m done with it.

For the most part, I don’t care about other people’s feelings. Or anything for that matter. I did care about getting Beyoncé tickets though. And by the grace of God, I got them. 🐝

My heart is cold and black, and it doesn’t bother me.

My cousin said she was angry for a year when her mother died. I anticipate I’ll be angry for at least that long, possibly longer.

Given that my grandmother basically died of old age, I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m angry about. I think I’m angry that my grandmother was taken from me before I was ready. I’m angry I didn’t get to see her one last time before she died. I’m angry I don’t have more pictures of her from recent years. I’m angry I can’t hear her voice because I don’t have any videos of her or any of the old voicemails she left me. Hmm. Guess I’m angry about more than I thought.

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