11 de Marzo

I feel like I have been cut deeply enough
That some serious healing has to occur.

                                                                    I am so sad.
I just caught myself there- again
Feeling fine and level headed for a second
Then having everything sink in again.

        Courtney, Benji was killed.

Benji was someone I ALWAYS looked forward to seeing. He carried such a strong energy, that I could feel it when he walked into a room.

                       he must have been so scared

Who would want to shoot Benji in the back of the head?


I choke and gag in my mouth starting to tell that story. I can taste it.



            It's almost as if I am throwing up my own heart
                                   And I'm only getting dry heaves.

When you said Benji got shot, I tried to 

turn myself back in time.

Then this wave of

pain, emotion, regret, fear, and cold

erupted from my stomach and

came screeching out of my throat 

and streaming out of my eyes

I felt like my mind was being 

asked to carry something that was

far too big for me to even get a grip 

on part of it.

Something specifically designed 

to continually spin out of grasp,
knocking the wind out of me


Knocking it out of me
so hard, and so fast
That within that instant 
the only thing I can understand
is what I'm able to 
directly see and feel



The shape and outline of your own body,
the hot red blood coursing through your veins,
and the crushing isolation and paralyzing calm
which is the only thing you're able to breathe.

The concept of time
becomes a blind man's view of how the world looks;
 with soft shapes and bleeding colors

My entire understanding of reality
needs to be rebuilt
Starting from which way
is up
and which way
is down

Struggling to try and recall

                           all the forms and textures

                                                       of what used to be Familiar

                                     

                                                                       March 10th

Her bed is going to feel so lonely
Putting her head where his used to sleep
Sobbing so deeply  
She's hoarse
From every breath that she takes
Because they each weigh a ton

And they rip and they scratch
Through the insides of her chest
But only to the right
Because the left side is empty

The boy has no father
at 7 weeks old
but at least... No, wait...
Stop
She's never felt more pain in her life
She'll never feel whole again

All Things Considered...

If I was the same Courtney that I was 6 months ago, right now I would probably be dead, or trying to expedite my arrival thereto. I'll give myself that.
So the fact that I'm holding steady, even a little happy and astonishingly productive, (despite the recent multifaceted sickening circumstances) only helps to reinforce in me my self-worth, drive, and general sense of joy and opportunities that I've been practically handed but often have neglected to acknowledge.