Sometimes one is needing tenacity to get through what one needs to get through in life. Such example for me this morning. I failed at something. I had to solve a few problems, and I solved none. In short, I failed. Again. I burst into tears. But fortunately for me, I’m used to failure. And picking myself up again. Because it’s boring and tired on the floor.
So this afternoon and evening I solved all the problems. I could and I did. It might be too little, too late, but for me, I have closure. I can say I can do something. Because I could and I did. My tears have dried. I am feeling happy (as much as).
I did something so terrible and shocking and inexplicable that I cannot even explain how or why or what I was thinking, except I wasn’t thinking, only driven by an emotion greater than myself, that I have no defense and the only bright part is:
I never killed anyone
(Or hurt a child, because that’s even worse than killing someone)
A woman took my hand. Wrapping her arms around me I could feel her soft skin, and delicately perfumed scent. Her long straight hair brushed over my arm as she leaned over to plant a kiss on my cheek. So unexpectedly. So very different to a man. So gentle and enticing. I lost my breath.
A thick heavy black soot settles over the landscape that was previously filled with roses and petals and flowers and all of nature’s beauty, filling the air with their scent and igniting the senses with their glory, all being replaced and suffocated with dead grey ash. Where are the roses? They have died.