It is probably because I turned thirty.
It is probably just timing but... I have found myself twice feeling very out of body.
On Monday, I was sitting in class waiting for my professor to start the class.
I looked down at my left arm and looked at the scar.
Roger is dead.
I have a scar.
I just have a hard time believing that he is dead.
It does not feel so raw anymore.
The pain feels so far away (at the moment) so it does not feel real to me.
If I did not see Roger's handwriting and live in this house, I would seriously doubt it was real at all.
Except I have a scar to remind me.
From the day.
Part of me is grateful for the scar.
Part of me hates it.
Yesterday, I was standing in the classroom.
Circulating between the students helping them with the assignment.
And I could not believe I was there.
It felt strange.
Looking down at me and thinking of the past two years.
And then thinking about three years ago.
I was not even married three years ago.
I cannot even put into words how weird it feels not to have the pain so close to the surface.
I tried to explain to Mr. X last night.
I almost want to cry at times because the pain feels far away.
Almost an oxymoron.