The Ghost after the Grief

The Ghost after the Grief.

You think you’ve read all 12 books on self-awareness and mindfulness with all the tips and tricks on detecting red flags, but nothing would prepare you for the foul smell. The lingering scent of your mental health melting to nothing, like burnt hair on horseback. It’s everything our mother’s warned us about. The same horror tales we heard about.

All the loud and subtle chants about trust and commitment, but here we all are, in this present day, still second-guessing our sanity and making choices that cost us way more than the pair of socks we’ll never match. It’s just a colorful charade of modern-day madness, but who cares? We’ll listen to the next best motivational speech and chant self-love, and in our delusion, that is a perfect cure to this insanity.

Oh well, what do I know outside of the ways I’ve spent too long self-reflecting and tracing my steps in hopes I could figure out the path where I turned left and maybe find good reasons to blame everyone else for the reasons why this Thursday is blue, but I’m growing so I’ll soak in this painful chill. Literally, soak in it.

Grief is such horror that no one ever defines the same; it’s the painful unrequited feeling, but this time not with romance or the last chocolate crush you had; instead, it’s the chest-clutch-heart-grind empty hole that may or may not be filled, and that’s so painful. Grief doesn’t just happen when we lose someone; sometimes, it’s the after-effect of losing ourselves on a lost, very lost quest. Grief may be snatching back your life from whoever you entrusted it to.

Let’s call this a writer’s walk to nowhere and words on paper, many words on paper, as you slowly read and decipher which way the letters are headed – It’s nowhere; it’s headed nowhere. Grief is the struggle to win back something that might never be recovered; it’s the treacherous reality that a thief you chose had taken all treasures, as they should, I guess. Grief is losing yourself and not knowing which piece of you might be recovered when reset happens. Grief is a sad journey that sometimes never promises light at the end of the tunnel.

Today, right now, and tomorrow, pick the pieces that litter in front of you, and patch the lines that crack like shiny blue glasses on marble floors. Clean and bleed but don’t stop, don’t stop in your tracks for whatever reason. Walk, clean, cut, and repeat. Repeat till it looks a little like new, and the next time you search for something that could leave scars, remember to keep a little jar of all the love you saved for you, guard it, and no matter what happens, Don’t lose you. Don’t ever lose you.

The Ghost after the Grief.