Grief is a weird thing, isn’t it? Five letters, none of which look like each other. Five stages, none of which ready you for the next. I’m grieving someone major in my life. I think in a way I was denying I’ll have to say goodbye. But I needn’t have worried; I didn’t get to.
My mind has broken. My health has fallen apart, and I’ve been dangerously ill at times. I’ve stopped making art, writing songs, or even writing. I’ve lost all sense of who I am before this. I’ve always felt everything in the world more intensely, but this is consuming me. I’m working with a therapist to process things.
The only constant in my life has been Duolingo and my girlfriend. She sends me stuffed animals that feel like a hug from her, and plants and bouquets that feel like they wouldn’t let me wilt before it’s time. I’m reaching out to some friends that always say the kindest things, but while their prompt replies bring me tears, I don’t reply so the notification glimpses that are holding me up don’t disappear from the lock screen. If this is you, I’m sorry, hoping I’ll reply soon.