There is a colossal anger simmering inside of me. It is as though everything that I have stored in me, every pain, every injustice, all the ire that these things made me feel individually have accumulated inside of my body and I feel the anger thrum in me. I am angry. Truly angry. And I revel in this feeling because it makes me feel so alive. The frown that has planted itself in between my eyebrows and the bright glitter in my eyes, these all serve to remind me that yes, I am alive. That yes, I feel and yes, it is good to feel.
I have heard from so many people the past few days and they all invariably end up saying the same old thing all over again. "You look like you are doing better."
Mm, do I?
I must have some unknown talent in acting. I effectively pushed all thoughts of despair aside and moved on, determinedly walking through life. I lost the poetry - yes, I did and it was okay. It will come back when it wants to.
You don't recover from the death of a loved one in mere weeks. I am learning this now. You simply don't wake up one day and feel okay. You don't accept it all of a sudden. There is no time limit for grieving. And it's not something that your friends can help you with.
I don't blame them.
I'd get tired of the same uncomfortable topic if I were them too. It's such a sensitive thing. How do you console someone who has lost someone to death? What words make them feel better - let me tell you, it's certainly not 'they're in a better place.'
I wish I could strip away the frivolities in life and live it as simply as possible. That I could exist linked from one moment to another and these moments would shape my life the colour of a sunset. I find myself thinking macabre thoughts. Fearing that every single day I come closer to losing someone else. I would much rather die than lose someone else.
That's it, I think. As far as catharsis goes, I believe this place is the best.
"If less I ask," tear blind she mocked, "I may be less denied." - Fannie Heaslip Lea, The Dead Faith.
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