2 years into the grief
People are always talking about the grieving process. Words of encouragement such as “let it all out” and “don’t hold back” are always echoing from one mouth to another. However, no one ever really talks about the moments that follow, as if once we encompass the peak, everything will just go back to normal. No one talks about the emptiness you feel deep inside, not knowing what to do now that you’re no longer grieving yet you are not quite healed. How you just stare blankly past through your ceiling while constantly thinking “what the fuck am I doing?”
This griefing process has left me debilitated. It left me for dead as a scrap of a once-human. Once everyone has left the room with their pities, they also take with them the light that used to shine the room, leaving me blind in the dark not knowing where to go, or even as simple as what I want. Do I want to stand up, crawl around until I bump into the wall, find my way out, or stay seated until the darkness consumes me. That’s where I was, where I am.
To be fair, I grew to believe that I will be dead before 2022 ends. I lost all my faith in everything. In God, in science, in happiness, in myself, in what the future holds for me, you name it. With that in mind, I find myself in 2023 completely clueless. People my age would excitedly plan out their next steps, their career path, and their future endeavours. Me? I’m as lost as ever. I have come to believe that the world is filled with cruel, selfish people. I mean, selfishness is an inherent trait as a mean of survival, but the selfishness that I refer to previously is at the level where you would do literally ANYTHING to get what you need, even at the expense of other people. I’ve had my fair share of interactions with them to know that I’m better off living as a hermit in a remote mountain somewhere. Now I’m just rambling at this point.
Here’s a confession of mine: I’m scared. The most scared I’ve ever felt in my life. There’s a popular saying that goes “life only gets harder from this point on" (now that I remember it, it was my dad who said that). That got me thinking, what sort of horror will I face in the future harder than what I’ve encountered? Even when I’ve hidden myself behind baggy clothes and layers of brick walls, I wasn’t safe. So what’s the guarantee that I will be able to come out alive and well? While others are busy continuing their lives ahead, I need to deal with the past and present first before I can even take a proper step forward. So that’s another issue I have to deal with for the time being.
In the meantime, I have to find a way to keep me afloat, at least long enough for me to take a deep breath before I get plunged into the deep water again. I hope this won’t be my last medium post.