Cried all weekend, let the furry children have the run of the house and even sleep in the bed with me. Paralyzed by anxiety and anguish for the loss and crushing grief that grips so many after the violence of this past week; the lives shattered.

My eyes are swollen and they burn, a painful lump in my throat from trying (failing) to hold back each flood of tears. I exhaust myself in this way and I feel ashamed, because I can’t get my shit together enough to prevent the outburst in the first place.

It’s such a weak and selfish thing, you know; co-opting the tragedy of strangers. You are fine, grow the hell up.

The truth is I think about death too often. Since I was young I’ve had recurring dreams about death, it invades my thoughts daily. This is partly why I never feel safe and have irrational fears that something terrible might happen to people I care about. I imagine horrific scenarios where they are hurt and I’m absolutely helpless to keep them safe.

Posting here about MY feelings also carries a lot of shame for not being able to write eloquently enough about everything that’s wrong with society; the pain humans inflict upon one another. I want to put words on it and make sense out of it, solve the riddle, keep everyone safe and tell people to open their hearts. Let go of the rhetoric that separates us from the love and acceptance we all deserve.

Live and let go, love and let live.