baggage's Diaryland Diary

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$^$^%@$**&^%%##!

A few minutes ago, I saw someone on the verge of losing their job.

"If I had a husband, or a roomate-it would be different. But, it's just me," she said.

Sometimes, my blessed existence slaps me in the face so hard, that I'm stunned into silence.

And now, it's much too quiet.

Even the sound of my fingers tapping on the keyboard seem to echo endlessly down the newsroom.

I hear bits and pieces of conversations, coffee rushing pasts someone's lips, computers buzzing, CNN on the television-it's all a big blob of silence looming over me.

The lack of distraction leaves me alone with nothing but thoughts of mom

But, for whatever reason, I'm having a difficult time weaving these thoughts together into some sort of tapestry. My mind is full, but I can't verbalize it-much less write it down in the form of a decent entry.

Yes, I'm blessed.

That fact is obvious.

But, I'm so sad right now it hurts.

9:33 p.m. - 2002-02-19

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