I need to break this shell I feel. I can drink, laugh, eat, chat, smile just like a normal girl but the inside is getting hollower and hollower. It is like all I feel is my “giving” and even when others give to me, I am an old television whose rabbit ears are not wrapped quite well enough and you can just make out the Top of the Pops through the snow. And then you realize that ghosts live in the snow and you snuggle up to the telly so they can whisper their secrets to you.
Their secrets are always sad. They don’t want to TAKE life. They just want to EXPERIENCE it one more time. Feel the blood one more time. Cut the vein and bind the flesh one more time. Dance naked to a terrible song. Fall in love with abandon and not think of the consequences or the immediate issues thereof.
This is the month where I invite the Beloved Dead to dinner and leave more whiskey on the back step than usual. This is the month that signals the end and the beginning; the dying of the crops and the knowledge that under the soon to be frozen soil new life IS growing. For some of us our Gods are dying and for others they just wander away for a breather.
Hopefully my insides have just wandered away for a breather.