A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal. -Oscar Wilde

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

A (wo)man said to the universe:

A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!"
 “However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
 A sense of obligation.”

(apologies to Stephen Crane)

2012 is here (though perhaps not for too long, if the doomsayers are correct and you never know-- a broken clock is right twice a day).  I'm unspeakably relieved that 2011 is done, without any more damage wrought.  It did bring me a few presents, like divorcing parents plying their child with therapy and gifts once they realize the impact of their actions.  Which is not to say that I don't appreciate these bits of goodness-- mixed bags of success in unlikely places, unexpected love, rare moments of light that shine all the brighter against the darkness of the rest of the year.  But the darkness, the pall that has hung over my life for almost a year is still quite undeniably there.  I think I overestimated my own resiliency, especially with how difficult the holidays were.  Trust me, little can completely sap that holiday spirit like accidentally ordering Christmas presents for your deceased little brother.  Nor can I really enjoy the Steelers this season, lacking my brother (the king of Steelers criticism) and his non-stop bitching.  And so on.  Every little thing leads to a train of thought that leads back to the massive amount of grief that I'm apparently still processing.  In ultra slow motion.

So, to sum up?  It's still one day at a time.

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