My father began chemotherapy. I don't know what to write after a sentence like that. That's all there is inside of me right now. I'm a blackboard to write upon, I'm cataloging the moment, not thinking forward or backward, not planning, just here, because tomorrow it'll all be erased.
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I wouldn't know what to write after a sentence like that either. I hope your writing is helping, at least a little bit, with all of these feelings you are experiencing. Don't forget to take care of yourself. I wish I had better words for you, something magical.
Denise, the writing does help, even if it's just scribbling "fuck" over and over again. Dancing helps, too. And thoughts like yours.
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