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What they don’t know is this: appearing okay is a lot easier than actually being okay.
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Grief seemed to chase away the comfort of sleep, and he longed for a night where he could drift off into a blissfully unaware dreamworld, where life was potentially weird but definitely less paralyzing.
He’d rather have a woman who wore a size ten but wanted to make love with the lights on, than a size two who hid in the shadows.
He stepped back across the invisible line married people wear around them when spending time with the opposite sex,
He enjoyed a life where getting the wrong color straw or having a sandwich cut the “bad way” was the end of the world.
How could everyone else find it so simple to slip back into life, the world revolving, businesses opening and closing, buying and selling, when the pillow on the right side of his bed was empty every night?
“Ha,
