I always believe it will get easier. Every year. Always. Up until yesterday I felt fine & I felt hopeful.
Today, not so fine.
Every year takes me out.
18 years later might as well be yesterday. Did & did not see that coming.
Holed (hold) up all day with my broken heart.
I told my own story ONCE here, years ago, maybe. It doesn’t really matter, though. So many stories.
So many broken people. So many broken hearts.