It's the sadness that gets to you.
I go through the day. I see people, I converse, I interact, I wince, I smile, I laugh, and still.... I cry. There's just this unshakable sadness that remains with you, even during the laughter.
It's laughter tinged with sadness, with bitterness, with anger. Please, someone, explain to me why Charles Manson is still alive, and Rob isn't alive anymore. Yes, yes, I realise there's no real answer to that question. It doesn't stop the question from being asked though.
I feel like Sharon Stone in "Alpha Dog".
(I'm very guilty of paraphrasing here)
"This is God's plan? Then God better get his ass down here and explain it to me....".
You know what? I felt for that character.
I utterly, painfully, horrifically, tragically understood what she meant. I go through every single emotion, every single day.
But still, it's just the sadness that really gets to you. It sits on your chest, a boulder of pain, unwilling to let go and relentless in its intensity. It threatens to crush your soul, your very vitality, every little thing you think you've kept intact.
It's just so fucking sad.
Still...I have hope. I really do think - more often than not - that I'll make it through this bloody awful journey.
I have to, you know?
I have to make it.
Look, go hug your dearest and nearest. Cherish today. There might not be a tomorrow.
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2 comments:
Believing that I would be happy again one day is what I hung onto. And it worked.
Not that the grief ever really goes away, but one day there is life again.
You are exactly right, there might not be a tomorrow. I try to remember this and really live and enjoy each day, but it's hard breaking out of bad habits.
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