I am at the edge of myself, drowning. What is the point of taking another stroke toward shore? How can I breathe when everything hurts? Where does it end. Oh God, where will my loss end? At each turn my security is torn from me, every comfort abandons me. My heart is in shatters, my mind an abyss. My intellect cannot save me; it never has in the end. A person cannot multiply love, cannot reason emotional support. It cannot debate a hug, cannot remove the hurt by removing the heart. Time is a luxury and I have none. Only enough to put pain to pen to page. Not enough to cope, to process. Joe. Will I ever heal from this hurt?

I am vanquished. I don’t know how to meet the next moment, let alone day or week. I have nothing more. No final strength from which to draw. I cannot continue. I am bankrupt. No escape can rescue my mind from the truth in this agony. I’ve never known grief like this. I am not safe in my story. My imagination fails me.

I am broken.