Sitting here with tears welling. Normally when I cry it’s a more concious effort. The tears come but in some ways I encourage them. Cathartic and easing. Today they’re coming regardless, filling my eyes and trickling down my cheeks. I had some bad news, the type that is not cataclysmic in terms of how people are seated at Christmas dinners. It’s not divorce or death, at least no person has died. Just a dream.
The people who train for Olympics, the hours and hours and hours of training, the years that are invested only to find when they come to the final test they don’t quite make the grade. That’s my kind of dream that’s been squished. I keep hoping some one is going to rescue me, tell me it’s ok, it’ll be all right, I’m on the team but I know I’m not. So right now I’m grieving for the dream. And I need a tissue and I haven’t got any.