Mountains

April 18, 2015
There are days that scare me more than others since October.  The night that it happened, I didn't want to wake up the next day because it was the first time I'd ever wake up without her.  The next week it was the first Saturday morning without her.  The next month it was a full month, etc., etc., etc.  Everyone talks about "the first year" and how it's the hardest, and knowing that when that day comes it's going to absolutely devastate me, every month has been kind of a "countdown to Y2K" situation.

Today...is six months.  Which means that we are on the downhill side of the proverbial mountain that is "the first year."

  These last six months, like going up a hill, have been a long battle...think of going on a nearly vertical hike.  Your legs hurt, you can't breathe, you just want to go back, but the mountain below you has dissolved (so to speak) so you have no choice but to keep going, as much as it hurts and as much as you don't want to...but you can stop...and you can hang out a while in one spot...and you can still look back and see where you started and it doesn't seem like you've gone too far.  But once you reach the top, there's equal distance between where you've been and where you're heading (in this case, atom bomb days [October 18] on both sides.)

Now on this side...think about going down a hill, instead of up.  Its ALWAYS FASTER.  Scarier, you're more likely to fall and break bones and if you don't hold your feet just right you're gonna stumble and fall and roll all the way down this huge mountain, you can't see where you started anymore, everything's in chaos and shambles and fading out, and when you get to the bottom you're gonna hit the ground HARD.  And you're bleeding, and you're broken, and you're asking yourself why the hell you got stuck on the stupid mountain that you couldn't turn back on.  You didn't choose this mountain, shoot you don't even like hiking! But here you are...against your will...broken bones...and no cell service to call for help.  And then, another mountain, and another mountain, and another mountain...year, after year, after friggin year. Forever. Stupid mountains, stupid rocks.

I don't want to hike.
I just want to go back to when she was here.
Stupid.Mountain.

Welcome to my mountain.