It was hard to come home tonight.

I was pulling into the garage after 8 PM, aware of just how alone I am in my life, and for a minute it seemed overwhelming. Then I was okay. It was there, and I was okay.

I took care of the dog, made dinner, joked around with my older brother via text, and watched a little TV. A couple hours later I got up to go to bed and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. Grief struck me, and I bent over to withstand the blow. It wasn’t even half a minute, but god, it hurt.

I went to bed. I wrote a bit more of my story. Now I’m typing this with tears quietly and slowly marring my cheeks.

The grief is bottomless.

It is exquisitely heartbreaking.

I won’t deny it anymore. I seem to live just on the surface of it. I don’t know why. I don’t understand any of this. But, I won’t pretend anymore to be someone other than who I am. And this is part of who I am.