My heart has become a black hole. Think of me as like a collector. I collect things that make me happy. But everything that touches my heart like a magnetic endless well, gets pulled inside until it becomes forgotten. All that’s left is a memory. I must be a universe. If I want to be appreciated like Picasso or Jonathan Larson an like the stars in the sky, by the time we see them on earth, they’re already dead. We burn the brightest at the end of our time.
My fantasy is to live a long healthy and happy life with my husband, children and grandchildren. But that’s all a fantasy destination. The journey, the right now feels much harder and much darker than I have ever imagined. Much like a black hole. I must be living inside my own heart. Falling deeper and deeper into an abyss of nightmares, hopelessness, forgotten dreams and memories. Left with only fantasies of my brain as the only way to carry on living. Peacefully floating among darkness conjuring the sweetest of dreams.
Viva La Milliee 