Grief is funnyin the way the ocean is funny—how it leaves the shore quietonly to come rushing backwithout warning. One momentI am laughing on the porch,sunlight on my shoulders,sending messages about tomorrow,about new places,about hope. Then a memoryslips through the airfor only a second—and suddenlythe tide returns. The room feels hollow.The bandage is gone again.And […]
I am fightinga quiet war between the thoughtsin my head and what isactually in front of me and somewherein between I get lost because everythingfeels blurred like I’m tryingto hold onto something that keeps changing shape and I don’t know what is real anymore what was saidwhat was meantwhat I feltwhat was true it all
we were close close enoughto feel everything or at leastI thought we were but something was missing something softsomething real and I didn’t name itnot then I just stayedquiet like if I didn’t look at itit wouldn’t matter but I remember now how I reached for youand you pulled away how something in mefelt iteven
Unhealed wounds don’t stay quiet. They don’t fade just because you refuse to look at them. They sit inside you—open, infected, waiting. And if you don’t deal with them, they start bleeding into everything. You can try to drown them. Drink until your thoughts blur. Eat until you feel something—or nothing. Let people touch you
there were moments where everything felttoo loudtoo heavytoo close like I couldn’toutrunwhat was inside me like the weightmight win and I thought how easy it would beto disappear to slip outof all of it to finallyfeel nothing but something in me stronger than the momentstronger than the fear held on not loudlynot perfectly just enough
it felt so goodto get away with you like the worldsoftenedwhen you were near like I could restinside somethingthat wasn’t mine but somewherein the middle of us I disappeared not all at once—just slowly piece by piecequietly like I was playinghide and seek with myself and I got so goodat hiding I forgothow to be
