Today, grief made it’s first and lasting impressions on me. It is, and was, previously unbeknownst to me, how the death of a loved one can absolve us of one perception, and mercilessly thrust us into an entirely new reality. Things look the same, words sound the same, but certainly nothing feels the same.
Aside from a little rough around the edges, I probably look the same. Words, empty puffs of air, try to burrow their way into my ear canal, but they are exactly as that, empty. The combination of which, induce a most peculiar feeling of empty tightness, rooted in my chest.
I’ve spent the day, digesting regurgitated words from person to person. A jumble of condolences, apologies, sympathies and regret. And though I appreciate the thought, I have to wonder, if there is any thought behind them?
Of course, social conduct governs us, and it is thought to be polite to recite such strings of words as mere formalities, signs of respect in passing. This, I understand.
But, of particular concern to me, does not involve the people I meet merely in passing. It is of those I had considered closest to me. The lack of sympathy, empathy even, thereof, has done nothing by way benevolence. Rarely ever, do I incline myself to leave myself prone, vulnerable. As a result, I feel detached, selfish, and admittedly, a little scorned.
But where there is darkness, there is light, and as a cynic by heart, I am left pleasantly surprised. For those claiming true- those who understand that mere words do not exonerate one of actions, for those who understand that my solace lies in the little things- I am entirely grateful.
Tears. Real. Tears. This kid is my spirit animal.
The “What, you thought this was a GAME?!” look on his face is PRICELESS.
(Source: thedailywh.at)
