Crumpled feeling and Life, I wax poetic.

Today the uber strong and super woman is weak. 

Why?

Because I got used to being strong and weakness is a failure for me, not a success.     

Eating and staying awake and exercising and taking care of people was strong.  Strength in the small things.  Now I'm weak and wimpy like the tail of a curled up possum in the leaves.  I'm clean and white and small and weak. 

Like a white egg yolk, flimsy and fluid, retaining the shape of the container.  For someone or something else,  so bubbling in the heat from the frying pan.  I know each moment to be my last dance. 

So tired.  Faces, names, escape me.  I wish I wasn't watching this ice cold screen of white death.  Lost in a technological blizzard.  I no longer have the supporting cocoon of my mom's mom's love and my dad's dad's guidance.  We are left with barely a light to limp along with.  And mostly the darkness.

Time to go spend more time with myself.  Alone.   In the dark. Well, with a small, black dog.