we’ll both forget the breeze (most of the time)

and my days pass by in a blur. i try to fill till they threaten to spill over at the brim. i dance until my joints have given up protesting – maybe they’ll give up altogether soon. i come home exhausted and i stumble into the familiar comfort of my bed to sleep, dreamless, into the next morning. every other hour of my life is taken up by school, finding gaps in my knowledge, despair at little failures that just keep adding up and make me wish i could start each project all over  but only this time do it right, booking patients and living with the stress that comes with actual treatment.

there is no more sadness; the pain is no longer acute. but every now and then there is the dull ache, wondering about what-if’s and reminiscing about times that seem better perhaps only in retrospect. they say you don’t regret the things you do, only the things you didn’t. i sure as hell tried my hardest, but i need to accept that doing all you can doesn’t mean life turns out how you want it. sometimes it isn’t enough.

i wonder how, if ever, i’ll be able to fill this emptiness that is both spatial and temporal – it has a very specific shape, and my life has now been partitioned into what was before and what came after.

Kate Clanchy, again – because i’m indulging myself tonight:

Double Take
Kate Clanchy

I imagined that you’d miss me, thought
you’d pace your hardwood floor in odd
worn socks, watch the clock sit stuck,

get late to work, type my name caps lock
press and hold shift/break, miss buses, meals
or sit with fork half-way, lost, for minutes,
hours, sleep badly, late, dream chases, shake
send fingers out to pad the pillow, find
my hollow, start awake, roll over, hug a gap,

an ache, take a walk, damp dawn, of course,
wrapped in a mac with the collar up, glimpse
a slice of face, tap a stranger’s back, draw a blank;

as I have. Each time, I run to press your face
to mine, mine, shining with imagined rain.

sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead

school’s started again. the past three weeks have been a blur. in some ways i’m thankful to have things to focus on again. i think i had enough rest, but definitely not enough fun — no, i didn’t have much fun at all.

nine weeks. still dreading and stressed out about patient treatment, worried about messing up or providing inadequate care. sometimes i want to tell myself that what i do doesn’t really matter but that’s just pretty sad, isn’t it?

still can’t see where i’ll be in the future, though i do want to simply fast-forward out of all this and be done with everything here.

this is my fifth attempt at an entry and it’s still half-assed because i don’t want people stumbling upon it and reading things they don’t have a right to. sometimes i really hate social media.