Grief is like
It’s so peaceful here.
If only the incessant chatter in my head would quieten down,
I might just be able to enjoy it.
The warmth of the sun on your face,
The anticipation of a road trip with friends,
The promise of tall tales around the campfire.
It’s the little things that bring the most joy.
I am amazed, yet again, that I’ve found the courage to get out of bed.
You have no idea how hard it is.
This sustained internal struggle.
The conscious effort required to motivate myself to move.
The strength of belief needed to convince my anxious brain that we can get through the day unscathed.
If only I could return to the naivety of the past.
Travel back to a time when sadness was mere affectation.
Where melancholy was a comforting friend.
And death wasn’t such a viable option.
I’m sorry I act like I don’t care,
I’m sorry it seems like I’m rarely there.
I’m sorry it looks like I don’t even try,
I’m sorry that you’ve never see me cry.
I’m sorry I never appear in a hurry,
I’m sorry I always make you worry.
I’m sorry I can’t be who you want me to be.
But most of all I’m just sorry for being me.
It’s easier to say I’m alright, rather then I’m anxious.
It’s easier to say I’m okay, rather than I’m outraged.
It’s easier to say I’m better, rather than I’m broken.
It’s easier to say I’m good, rather than I’m grieving.
It’s easier to say I’m well, rather than I’m wasted.
It’s easier to say I’m fine, rather than I’m fucked.
see who is
when all is
said and done.
Sometimes I do.
Sometimes I don’t.
Sometimes I will
Sometimes I won’t.
Deal with it.
I’m not bothered either way.
to see you
a bigger mistake
listen to you.
for your hand,
but it’s not there,
and further into
for your face,
but no one cares,
and it’s like you
were never here
I don’t matter, me.
I just don’t matter, me.
Waking up is never easy.
we’ll never have.
we’ll never go.
we’ll never make.
we’ll never share
I thought I saw you today.
The first, when you were waiting to cross the road.
The second, when you were ahead of me in the queue at the post office.
It was only when you turned around, and I saw your face, that I realised it wasn’t you.
And I remembered, with a desperate ache, why it could never be you.
And I cried again today.
“Kill me now…I can’t be arsed”
If I met you again,
For the first time,
I wouldn’t change a thing.
I’d do it all again,
Exactly the same,
Taking you under my wing.
But I should have,
if I could have,
told you that
I loved you
my life now
The kindness of others never ceases to amaze me…
…But my inability to replicate it does.
I’ve never felt happiness,
I don’t know what it is.
I’ve never seen happiness
But I’m sure that it’s not this.
I was the
Another grey sky.
Another bleak landscape.
Another version of me.
The message from the search engine pings.
Their spies inform me that last month I visited:
Three different countries,
Fifteen different cities,
And twenty one different places.
That means I travelled over 1000 miles, last month.
Each one without you.
And every one with an empty heart.