I am a girl who loses.
So by definition I am a loser. But not the kind that doesn’t win things. More so the type that just loses things.
And sometimes I am still reeling from the loss of one thing when another fatality happens suddenly, so fast in fact that I am still stumbling from the previous loss, far too consumed to deal with the present one.
My life has been an exercise in One Thing After Another. In the interest of perspective, I remind myself daily that I am not alone on this path to the inevitable Next Thing.
But I still reserve the right to be tired.
Because I lose things. Sometimes in the most spectacular fashion.
It is part of the reason I haven’t been around here much. When I have good or funny and introspective things to say, I try my best to write them, to put words to my exuberance or mirth or growth. But sometimes, often times, the words I love so much fail me.
It’s one more thing that I have loss.
I am not in the business of complaining. I am too tired for it. I am mourning so many deaths so often and totally that I can’t fathom adding the exhaustion of rehashing it on top of it all.
Nor do I believe in putting all that doom and gloom out into the universe.
So I am here. Around. Living and, if I am to be honest, mostly well.
But still I lose.
And I miss them.