Entry 46

They ask me how do I deal with my grief. I told them, I don't. It's not like you wake up one day and everything is fine and dandy. It doesn't work that way. Whatever 5 step grief process I believe it to be cop out crap. A lie told to hurting people to plaster their wounds and hide it from the world, but not actually removing it. Might as well stick a hugeass bandaid saying "I'm hurting, beware." Denial, then anger, bargaining, depression and then acceptance. Ever heard of one step forward, two steps back. Bargaining to depression, and then back to anger. Vicious cycle. Vicious lies. You just wake up, too afraid to go out, fearful that the world will move on as if it doesn't sense your loss, insensitive to your pain and suffering. Too afraid to go out and face the people that keep saying "I'm sorry" when none of that is their fault. Angry too, that you're expected to move on as if nothing had happened. Oh, you're supposed to grief for as long as the flower withers, but when the flower blooms you need to be all smiles and candies. Because to dwell on the (very recent) past is a sign of weakness. To mourn publicly is annoyance to people who don't understand. So you don't. So I don't. I wake up, feeling every emotion hit me like an array of bullets, slowly and unfortunately painfully. And then I stand up, my legs filled with sand and the idea of going out with the sun shinning on my face overwhelms me with dread. But I do that anyway. I keep on doing it. I go on and on and on. I tell myself that I'm okay, so much so I start to believe it. On and on I go. Keep at it and I believe that it would take me somewhere. I don't talk about it. Because I'm okay. Because bawling in public for my loss isn't what I want. Because cursing and yelling "Fuck the world" isn't exactly going to bring back the dead. I'm tired of people what to do. In the end, I deal with my loss, my way. (Saw this in my journal. As much as it's emotionally charged, I love it.)