Make it mean something.
These words seem to be on replay since last week in my brain. I’d been dealing with my alcohol relationship. Trying to trick my brain. My doctor told me that’s the best plan, and I’ve been stepping my imbibing down ever since. But make it mean something is there, waiting. It seems fitting that my over indulgence of alcohol seemed to really set in after my dad died and now is the time to make my mother’s sudden death matter. Recently I saw a poem that asked if it was the floods or the droughts that made others run away and I’ve been wondering ever since. All the time I was sure it was the floods and suddenly I’m realizing it’s often the droughts. I don’t know if that’s good but I can’t seem to connect. I find myself doing it now. Retreating into myself. I don’t know what to say or maybe I don’t know what I’m SUPPOSED to say. Everything I have said feels a little flat, aside from the sharing of my own memories on Facebook. Flat or mean. The easiest thing to say to put p...