Day 7

And sometimes, there are just no more words.

The pain is so deep and so unutterable that it spills out over the edge. She says I don't listen, can't listen. She is often right. There is a limit and beyond that limit we just break.

She sits and bangs her feet against the door frame. She shrieks at me that she hates me.  Then her little girl eyes look up tearily and she asks if I love her. Why do I love her? What is the purpose? And it takes every. single. last. ounce. of. strength. to not simply dissipate. Melt into non-matter. Disappear.  And I hear myself saying, out loud, what feels to be true to me, right now, but is not comforting in any way. "We are all always alone. Always. We ARE ALONE. We are born alone and we die alone. NObody has any purpose."

I wonder, sometimes, why I can't stop those words and that pain from spilling out. I try to contain it, I try to believe some other world is possible. One in which we don't greedily stomp on the next guy. One in which we are able to listen to our children, without interrupting or getting angry.