Jumping back into the blog water with some writing prompts. Today’s pick comes to us courtesy of ThinkWritten.com (and if it inspires some connection of words in your mind, please consider sharing in the comments below – linking to a post of your own inspired by it is okay too – but know that I review all comments and spammy ones are tossed). And with that, today’s prompt is: Outside the Window: What’s the weather outside your window doing right now? If that’s not inspiring, what’s the weather like somewhere you wish you could be? The air outside was thick
There are days when I mourn her loss, though I never really knew her at all. What I want most is to love her. And what I’m truly mourning I think, is my failure and inability to truly see her, acknowledge her, console her, wrap her up in my arms and love her, encourage her, and help her grow to see safety in the world around her so that she can become the best she can be.
Seriously. I just can’t. I’m so tired. Why does everything have to be so f*cking hard? Why do I always feel so alone? Like I’ve got no one ever to lean on or talk to or depend on? I’m just so tired of this horseshit life. I’m angry and hurt and sad and so many things all at once. In two weeks it will have been 27 years since my mom passed away. I’m gonna be brutally honest about the fact that I’m still sad and angry about that even! Like, why the hell did she have to leave us
It’s getting harder to wake up each morning, yet I continue to do so for my children more than anything. They’re almost all grown. Nowhere near ready to tackle life entirely on their own quite yet. I’m growing more hopeless and tired of struggling all the time. Every day. Every single day. Why is it so hard to get by in this world? Is it because I just can’t conform to the expectations of this ridiculous society in which we exist? Is it because I am ultimately unworthy? I can’t really seem to figure it out. I’ve continued to push
It’s come to my attention, sadly, that I simply do not read enough. I read all day — just about every day, it seems — but it’s always online stuff: short articles, snippets of things, research information, blogs, etc. I can’t remember the last time I’ve picked up and read an actual, tangible book. You know, the kind where you have to turn the pages manually? They usually smell a little musty and are made up of actual paper and ink and binding glue… When I first moved here I was excited to finally live somewhere with an accessible physical