A touch of food poisoning most likely. The last time that we went there I left him sitting at the table and stood outside. We laughed when we went in, remembering almost fifteen years ago. We’ve gone elsewhere for Mexican since because we love it. This time, I made it until the next day.
Sixteen hours in bed, three spoonfuls of soup. Headachey today, but the stomach’s better. Can take a lot of pain. Nausea drives me over the edge though. Twelve hours of sleep and four of thinking. Wanting to die but knowing this will pass. And then, where do I go from here? Restarting life on an empty stomach, must get rid of the mess inside my brain as well.
"It’s never too late…" doesn’t hold water anymore. Not in these days, these times. What I want is unattainable–really, it is. Maybe though, the learning stays with the spirit. Maybe it will just take a few more lifetimes to achieve. Some sort of happiness and content is all I need to seek this time.