I'll keep this short.
Most of you know what happened. The rest are about to find out.
I'm a wreck. I cry at almost random times. I get phone calls which stretch out into an hour as I have to tell it all again. Just about every time I go outside, when I move through the apartment, something happens to make me think about it.
But I have to survive. I have to find some way of going on.
It feels like all I have is the pain. As if I can't try to continue any ongoing story until I give that pain a place to live. Isolate it, let it tear apart its own private environment, and then maybe...
...I'm not okay. I don't know when I might even be able to lie about that, even for a few hours at a time.
But I wrote this. Because I had to find out if I could still write anything.
It's a 10,000 word scream.
It's what I had to give.
I'm sorry...