I used to write. I used to write longer than 140 characters. I used to write blogs, in plural. I used to write for a living, for God’s sake! Yes, I know I’m talking to you, God, but wouldn’t it be weird if I said ‘for your sake’? No? Well, I guess weirder stuff happen in your universe. Not that the one I’m living in is not yours. Ah, I’d better shut up. See? I now write and delete (I didn’t delete previous lines because you’ve read them anyway). Whatever happened to me? Well, apart from you deciding to make my life a wee bit interesting by taking the man that I loved back to HQ last year and with that, I feel, my reason to merely exist, that is.. No, no, don’t get me wrong. I’m not mad at you or anything. I’m just confused as to what I’m supposed to do now. I’m in limbo, if such a thing exists. You tell me. If there isn’t, you know what I mean. A part of me feels I’m so ready to start anew, embrace a new life, find myself a man, fall madly in love, get (re)married, have kids, and live happily ever after. But another is caught in the past, or the remains of the past to be precise; that I’m no ordinary single woman. I’m a mom with a 5 y.o. kid to feed. I’m a widow. It’s a ‘been there done that’ for me. Unwillingly, I have run the whole lap. Is there anything left for me in the future? If there isn’t, then why am I still here? Not that I want to leave now. No. I still want to be there for my kid, watching her grow and live her own life. But it surely is a lonely place from where I’m sitting. And I’m not sure if anyone would be willing to take a seat beside me. Have faith, yes. But courage, I have not. I’m still caught in the cliches, it seems. I know it and I hate it. It’s not like me. At all. Which brings us back to the beginning. Whatever happened to me?
I know you’re there, God. Please reply.