It was the oddest feeling.
When tragedy hit, I felt like my life and world were over.
How could I pretend everything was okay?
How could I survive this?
How could I just be?
I forgot how to smile.
I forgot how to breathe.
I forgot how to live.
It was the oddest feeling.
As if a magician’s spell caused a storm to wreak havoc.
It was raining cats and dogs where I was. Drenched, shivering, and helpless as lightning struck and thunders roared like never before, I was struck with a realization.
I was the only one who felt the devastation of the raging storm that took away my umbrella, my sole support, while those around me remained oblivious to it.
I had never felt more alone.
It was the oddest feeling.
Like the time I heard a pressure cooker whistling for hours on end.
The whistles always left a weird and loud echoing silence behind.
The emptiness was painful.
It is the oddest feeling.
When I am using another umbrella.
When I am embracing the noise and the silence.
When I am smiling some days.
When I am learning to breathe again.
When I am trying my best to live.
