This time last year...

Yesterday was my birthday… ugh. The memories of this time last year are too painful to face. My complete happiness is like an ice cold dagger in the back. This time last year…  Many, many times over the last ten months I have ranted to myself about humanity’s cursed obsession with marking time. Why??? Why do we need to know what freaking TIME it is? What day it is? What month it is? All it does is provide the grief with more potent ammo. It’s February, next month is March… hell month. The blackness is descending, thick, heavy. All the memories my broken mind has been partitioning, blocking, filtering, shadowing… all are bubbling to the surface and popping violently into my consciousness. This time last year…  This time last year my baby was alive. I held him. I rocked him. I laughed with him. I watched him dance. Hell, hell is where I live. Damon, I miss you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!