Happy Birthday, Mama
Happy birthday, Mama. My mom, Melody, would’ve been 66 today. She should still be here. She isn’t, and I’m resentful toward the world for it. I feel a lot of anger lately. Angry that she isn’t here. Angry that such a loving person is gone when so many other terrible people walk the Earth. Angry that science and her doctors failed her when they said everything would be fine. Angry because I’m forced to keep moving, otherwise I’d be buried under the grief I carry. People sometimes pick up this energy, the intensity and tend to avoid me. But I could never explain myself why I’m feeling the way I do even if I was asked. Think I hit that patch of not feeling great is the realization that no one is around to call me "Bear" anymore... There’s only so much suffering and pain because the love I hold is the size of my entire known world. That world is now gone and my love has nowhere to go, so I hold it still despite it getting hot with rage and sorrow, harming myself in the proces...