Broken

I feel so lost. So broken, so alone.

I want to reach out, but I don’t know how, or to who, or what to say.

Grief is the most underestimated feeling on the planet.

It fucking shows up and destroys you, no matter what you do to mute it’s effect.

I ignored it.

I pretended it didn’t exist.

All day long today…during the sober hours, and the less than sober hours, I thought about dying. And hurting myself. And giving up.

Alcohol is now hitting me an an oh so sweet kind of way.

I give up.

I want to give up. Except for when I don’t.

I don’t want to give up. I want to feel less broken.

Grief is horrific.

I choose not to feel this feeling any longer.

Hah.

Like it’s really that simple.

I don’t know how to accept the fact that I haven’t ever met my son. I said goodbye to him nearly 9 years ago.

And he may very well want to say hello to me again very soon.

Or not. A decision that I will simply be informed of, that I have no say or impact in. And I’ll be ready whenever he is. No matter how much it will h u r t.

It’s not fair how much I miss him.

He’s my child. He is my son.

Have you ever lost a child?

Because let me tell you.

It really fucking sucks.