I’ve always been a strong believer that pain is the best thing for a writer.
It forces them to really feel things.
It causes so much emotion and build up inside ones body that you have no choice but to write it all on paper just to lift some of the weight off of your body and soul.
However, I never took into consideration that there was pain out there that is so much bigger and so much heavier than one human-being can tackle on their own…
Until I found myself in a luke-warm bath at 4 a.m. struggling to find the energy to keep my head above the soapy water.
That was the first and the only time that I have ever laid in a bath tub for over 15 minutes. I laid there when the water scolded my swollen skin, and I continued to lay there long after the water had gone cold and the bubbles had disappeared.
And when the clock struck 6 a.m. and I could hear other people in my house start to stir, I piled my soapy hair on the top of my head, drained the water, and crawled back to my dark bed that has been my “safe haven” even since I learned the news.
And I stared at my ceiling.
And tears dripped effortlessly from my eyes.
And the silence consumed me.
And the memory of you danced in my empty hollow heart.