I am angry.
I don't know if this is a passing thing, a "phase" as it were, or if this is my new state of being.
I have a small cold. I'm not certain how my low grade fever is effecting me.
I am angry.
I am angry there is no space for me.
I am angry there is no safe place for me to talk, to someone.
I am angry that Hospice has to be considered part of the "safety net".
I am angry at my friends, the people I love. I am angry and love them at the same time. It's a painful contradictory feeling.
I am angry at life. I am angry at the inherent unfairness. Of it all.
I am angry that every week I see more friends have birthdays that place them at or right next to my age.
I am angry that every week now someone new is engaged, married, or pregnant. In about 6 months I suppose I'll be angry at all the births around his death date.
I am angry at myself and society. I am angry that I will never be pregnant again. That I will never carry life, that my husband will never live on. That I have no more family with his death. He was my family unit, and now it is singular, and I'm angry that I had so little time with him.
I am angry at the milestones I have and will miss.
I am so angry at society for telling me I am worthless if I do not reproduce.
I am angry at society for telling me I am worthless for being poor. I am angry when people say it is my own fault, my own choices. I am angry when someone implies Wash wanted or asked for terminal brain cancer.
I am angry at myself because I cannot be fully happy for my friends.
I am angry at comments about couples trying to get pregnant for under 6 months, and how upset/sad/frustrated they are. I am angry when those same people then immediately get pregnant.
I am angry that I have no one to talk to.
I am angry at my best friend for dying, for leaving me. I am angry at myself for that very thought. For not being happy he is not in pain, like he wished.
I am angry when I stare at his TARDIS urn every day and night and wonder if anyone else remembers him?
I am angry that he died before so many wonderful things.
I am angry he will never see the Doctor Who 50th Anni. special. Or be part of it in some way, which he would have; if he had not had the cancer and was still alive.
I am angry at being told I have to change so many things.
I am angry that so many things will change and have regardless.
I am angry that I can remember the last hug I had from him, that I remember it was the last.
I am angry that I have to live a future without him. I am angry that I wake up every morning, and he does not, will not.
I am angry and it feels like a hot weighted stone upon my heart.
I am angry that I feel so utterly useless.
I am angry how disposable I feel. I am angry at the daily implication that my existence is worthless- or worse, costing of others.
I am angry, and so sad.