I don’t know if I should write this or not. I pretty much keep feeling that. I have so many thoughts and emotions spilling out of me because Matt has died that I clamp my lips shut and don’t speak at all. I am nervous what may pour out, I can’t distinguish between what must stay private and what it is appropriate to say. This is my writing blog, not a place for personal woe. But fuck it eh, in my description over there it says writer, mother, bookseller, human. Death is part of being human. And I feel as if I have to let some of this out before I explode messily with it.
Thank you to those of you who left a comment here, at our LJ, or sent an email. It honestly meant a lot to me that you took the time. I know there’s not much that can be said, but saying something is good, definitely.
I feel so much more lonely now that he’s not here. There are things that have happened that are darkly funny, and I would like to share them with Matt, because he’s the person that would find them amusing.
Even opening my Mac is a lonelier experience because Matt and I emailed so frequently or left comments around the net for each other, that the absence of his words baffles me. I click from email to internet, site to site, click, click, but I don’t settle because I can’t find what I am looking for.
I try to write, that is always my way of dealing with anything, but although my mind is writing, fictionalising as I go about my day, when I sit and try to type words there’s nothing there.