“I can’t go on living this way,
(but) I can’t go back the way I came …”
The days slide by, empty. White noise is nothing, but it is what I hear now. I used to dream of things, think of so many things, but now there is nothing, a blankness. Once in a while, there is a hint of the old creative self, but usually, in a flash of remembering the current depression, it is gone. I am still enclosed in a white haze of pain. Someday I might feel differently, but I don’t think so.
I thought I would feel something more, I would feel the presence of my mom. I thought that even though she was physically gone, she wouldn’t be, really. But I don’t feel anything, I don’t hear or see anything, any sign of her, and that makes me feel very sad and disappointed. I am empty. It might sound weird, but I was hoping for that, and even counting on it. I thought she would always be with me.
Now I know that the light at the end of the tunnel is just white nothingness. That’s it.