Feb 3 35/366
The worst day of my life. The hardest thing I've ever done. As I knew it would be. So as painful as it is, the ache and anguish are seasoned with a pinch of relief.
I have imagined the events a thousand times before today, and every time, they were worse -- far worse -- than the actuality.
Still, the actuality is still so bad, I feel physical pain. My intellect is telling me to get up and go, and set this aside for a while, but my spirit wants to wallow in self-pity a bit longer.
The brain is going to win, and I'm off to watch the Super Bowl with my brothers, and see if New England can overcome the Giants for a perfect 19-0 season.
But who really gives a shit?
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