Saturday / August, 1 2020
I haven’t written anything in over a month. That’s a long, long time to go without writing for someone who’s routine is to discuss every little thing with their journal. I’ve been in Kosovo for a month now. Today is my last night here, I’m sitting on my mom’s bed, trying to write while I’m still here. I’ve had 30 days to write something, but I didn’t. These past 30 days have been overwhelming; to say the least. Most days, I’ve struggled to recognize how I was feeling. I’ve struggled to express myself. I’ve let my emotions and thoughts run around my head and heart since that’s the only thing I could do. I still don’t know how I’m feeling, but it’s a lot. At this exact moment, I think I have to take a step back and breathe. I might have to continue this story some other day. Right now, I don’t even know what say. My grandpa died. I was in the middle of writing a story when I got the news. I haven’t had the courage nor strength to come back here and try to write again. It was a rainy night, and I take rain as a sign that grandma’s around. Maybe she was trying to say that she was starting to feel lonely since it’s been over a year since she passed away and last saw her best friend. I don’t know. Sometimes I feel crazy for thinking that way but if feeling crazy helps with the pain, I take it. My grandpa was a great man, trustworthy and so, so hardworking. I wish I could write something more but it’s like my brain has been switched off; no words won’t come out, I can’t think of anything. I miss both of my grandparents so much. Right now, I can’t seem to be able to say or write anything; so I’ll just let myself breathe. And feel; whatever it is.
Til’ next time,