yesterday I wore my teapot shirt and told my roommate of its origin. as I mentioned the woman who gave it to me, someone older than my mother was, I got a little teary. I found a logical stopping point and I retreated to my bedroom and began to cry.
he asked me if I was ok. "yes. are you ok?" "yeah. are you crying?" "yes." and he came in and held me.
"why are you crying?"
"I miss my mom."
and I felt stupid for crying, for being 29 and crying, like tears are something you get to stop leaking after a while. but it doesn't end. you're never too old for sobbing and honestly, 29 still sounds awfully young to me.
I didn't tell him that I missed shiny, and that was part of crying too. I'm not sure how much I really miss him and how much is just wrapped up in my mom. "sometimes I just can't believe she's dead." and I felt stupid. stupid for not being able to accept death. sudden death.
this just feels so wrong. it always feels wrong. there is no order or logic or anything. for so long, I have wanted to believe that there were reasons behind things. I needed that kind of strained faith to continue. but it's all in tatters now.
I still look for reasons, but the attempt rings hollow.
I still look for reasons, but I can't make myself believe them anymore.
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