Grief has got its cold, bony fingers on my heart. It’s so hard to return to life before it all. I got a clod from its grave. Taking a piece away. Taking away its power. How foolish of me. There were crying birds. Tiny featherless ones. Screeching abominably. They wanted to go back to their nest. Early morning I returned them to the earth to which it belonged. That night he shone like the moon. Serene and peaceful. My heart shivers.
A new idea is conceived to take away the edge. Foolishness, except some nights for a while my thoughts are about simpler things. Money. Fame. Success. Accounts. Funnels. Business Model Canvas. It helps.
Mosawi is keeping me sane and alive. So engrossed in working on it except for the heaviness in my heart and the world getting blurry occasionally.
Why is it such a taboo to be vulnerable? Why is it so unbelievably hard to imagine a person as both strong and vulnerable? Doing business everyone advises you to “fake it till you make it”. Being vicious is a quality. Cut-throat is coveted. I refuse to play by any rules that I don’t agree with.
It’s a struggle.
Writing isn’t coming naturally.