That is not all.
There is this sense of mourning floating around me. It’s not just the loved one who’s gone.
A big part of me was brutally ripped off.
사라졌다.
There is this loss of a burning drive. Andando en piloto automático.
A crumbling butterfly.
(Been feeling left behind)
Pero creo no estar rota, sino más bien trizada.
I tried over and over to go back to the things I used to do,
the way I used to do.
I pushed myself like I had stayed the same.
But this was not my self. A brand new one.
So, so hard to accept.
It’s hard to run when you are gluing your pieces together.
Cuando la trizadura es tan grande.
Corriendo sin la cuarta pata.
Blamed myself over and over for not living up to what I had built before.
It’s just easier
to think
you can fix
something
wrong.
Grasping for some control.
Being angry at reality suffocates the space to show mercy
to yourself.
And accepting you need mercy makes you fragile.
“Anda a acostarte… ¡pero descansa!”
Ahora entiendo que me lo tengo que decir solita.
Y obvio que estoy súper frágil.