Grief is a crazy thing. Sometimes it arrives way too early, slowly, like a light ache. A weird sensation in my chest, an unpleasant dream.
I can see the wave forming, but I'm still not sure what it is. I fight it, hold onto hope. Call it anxiety, continue moving.
I cry. Still not sure why.
But then it comes, the huge mountain of loss. The desperation, the helplessness.
And suddenly, there's a hole. A huge black space, a wave of nothingness, a calm emptiness.
And it's so weird, to have to wake up and make breakfast. To reply to emails. Do laundry. All in the midst of how fleeting life was, of how momentary can something so infinite be.
But then you eat, and you go to sleep. And another day starts.
And the nothingness remains, heavily. And I feel like I'm going to carry this hole forever, when I cry, when I sleep, when I dance. I feel like I'm made of holes, of absence.
Grief is a crazy thing. Because we're all just passing by, and only the void remains.
ART
Mía </3
