Thursday, 12.13.2012 - 8:03 pm.
Since a couple of days ago, I've had a slight feeling or thought that I didn't know what to call. I was looking at the dates, reflecting on this great year and also the end of an era, with my master's program and the scholarship coming to an end in january.
It finally took form in a sentence: isn't it weird what I was going through this time of the year four years ago? It was agony. Obviously, compared to other people's suffering, this was just a heart in the proccess of getting broken, torn to pieces, shredded and reduced to dust. Nothing out of this world, perhaps, but it was killing me. I went back to link to the entries of this time around four years ago and as soon as I got to the page I got a stomachache. I seem to have lost sensitivity in that part of my heart that was invested in Joseph, and all those amplified feelings of agony moved to my stomach. And have remained there to this day if I look closely.
It doesn't feel like four years, you see. But then again, I relived these things for over three years after they happened, so the time that has gone by for me feeling healed, psychologically, is considerably less.
I cringe when I remember Joseph wrote me last year wishing me merry christmas. It feels like dreaming of a dead person. I hope he doesn't do it again this year.
I guess that's all I wanted to say. I made more significative progress these past six to eight months than the three years prior, when this complicated mourning started to show its claws. Lately a few songs that remind me of these times, the saddest times of my life, come on my playlist. That's why I started looking back a little. October, november, december were about ABBA and Scott Weiland, and remind me of all that ambiguity of waiting for someone who had already moved on. It wasn't until january that CR and the White Stripes came into my life and changed the tune from melancholy to bittersweet. And it got better, much, much better, all things considered.
It's funny to look back on it and re-experience the sadness for a little while. It's even funnier to remove myself from those memories and look at myself in the present. I made it, man.
Oh, hey, tomorrow is my mom's birthday. 74 years old! Ain't nobody got time for cancer.
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