It feels like I'm out of a deep comatose state of mind.
I don't really remember the last time I felt anything like myself.
I'm writing not just to kill that long cold silence in me, but to
fight that dead state of mind. To thaw out the freeze of 'me'.
I remember 'me' tip-toeing in a park to make the perfect photo of a
butterfly. A 'me' doing push ups after returning from office to stay
tough. A 'me' baking a cake for my grand ma's birthday... A 'me'
ordering an extra large birthday surprise cake to be directly sent to
my dad.. that's the last special thing I could share with him.
Always wanted him to be proud of me. Praise came more spairingly from
him than summers in the antartic.
So many plans, hopes of getting to spend time.. maybe after his
retirement.. and now he has fore-gone retirement for more permanent
resting plans.
They say that you can't defeat a man who won't give up.. My dad was
that, so was my grandad.. Fuckin stubborn, lived by their own
rules..No regrets and no bloody care for social masks.
Been wanting to do that myself.
For now, I'm glad to just realise that I'm breathing still.. and
knowing that no amount of toughness of mind or body can prepare you
for life.
One thing though I must absolutely learn to preserve..
The desire to keep going.
