So here's the deal. I'm hurting. I'm hurting bad. Not as much of a physical hurt as I expected, but an emptiness that has been growing without my notice until all of a sudden, with the blow, it made itself all too apparent. It's the kind of hurt that is specific, but is also compounded by other hurts, by old wounds that never quite leave you. The kind of hurt that leaves you wondering if it is your fault. If it is always your fault. If you never have and never will get it right or fit the bill.
I was oh so blind. I didn't want to see. I continued to hope that everyone was wrong. But they were right. They were all right.
I hate it when they're right.
This extremely vague middle of the night divulgence was brought to you by A Singular Existence. Good night folks (not that I'll be able to sleep).