Being as sensitive to the emotions of others as I am, Funerals are terrible to me. When I lived in Monona we lived near one and I swear I could smell the bitterness of sorrow on the air when it was used. I walk into the room and can feel it in a way most people can't, the pain, the missing, the people who can't hold still, the people who jabber about nothing because they're trying not to look at the painted corpse, the people who just are so broken-hearted they can't move, the people who don't really care at all, the people who're there for the free kleenex and mints, the people who are waiting for a ghost to pop out.
All those people? I sense them, in my way. It sounds stupid until you know me, until you realize I'm not actually making this up. I live this, every day.
I still don't know what to say. I can't comfort this, and they can't really comfort me.
Beyond that, I had ceder-leaf-smoked salmon and gold potatoes for dinner, which I could barely eat (firstly, worked up; secondly, the last time I had this was with him, and I...). I got back to the hotel and the hot tub's broken.
At least I have internet. I can skim the emails, down to the ones where he threatens me.
The moon is full. I'm safe.
I still cannot comfort my family, but I always try.
I wish other people would try for me.
I think that'd be nice...
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