That’s the thing about grieving life it comes in droplets like a drizzle before rain then suddenly it showers you. One day you wake up feeling like you’ve surpassed the mountain of grief and the next you are back to ground zero barely feeding yourself. Nothing is harder than grief. Nothing is as consuming as it. Nothing is as blood sucking and ruthless as grief. It breaks you and crushes your frail bones then throws you out to face the wild as if your pain was worth nothing. Sometimes you wish the person you were grieving were actually dead rather than having to live with the reality of them actually still existing. Yes, I know death isn’t easy but neither is life. Neither is convincing your brain that: “No, brain they aren’t coming back. No, brain it is over.” It hurts to be weak and what is worse is that some days all you have is to be weak. Especially, if you are an emotional person, a wreckage of a human and all you do is build hopes and expectations that maybe tomorrow they’ll come back from the dead. Maybe tomorrow I’ll understand and it will make sense. Maybe tomorrow I’ll realize that it is all a dream. Maybe tomorrow it’ll be better. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be better, maybe tomorrow I’ll be better, but then tomorrow arrives and you’re still trying to fake it till you make it, fake it till you become it. Somedays like today I doubt I’ll ever move on because here I am still writing and I can no longer trust myself, whether my emotions are valid or whether I am lingering on to the past. It is horrible to lose trust in yourself, in your judgement and it is hard to talk to people about how you feel because everyone thinks that you will be fine and maybe you will but sometimes we need someone to tell us that we might continue to feel this way for a long time. Last time I grieved I wasn’t honest with myself I immediately filled that void but now I want to dwell in the emotion and pain of grief. I want to indulge myself in it. Here’s to grief may we find it, linger on to it, then finally surpass it and never look back.
"The past is a place of reference not a place of residence" this is a sentence I have to constantly remind myself. It is okay to look back to ponder then proceed, it is life nothing more, as tough and as complicated as it can get. That being said; I never choose to revisit the past, I cannot decide whether it is due to fear or rather being past the past. I choose to deem it as acceptance, that it is a chapter of history I can learn from but should never mourn upon, although I usually choose the route of not looking back. January 5th 2024, Friday, was one of those extremely rare days that I sensed I was sent through a time capsule, 8 years back, early 2015 to be exact. As I heard the sound of the war-crafts bolting through the serene blue sky of Sanaa, I was triggered. My first reaction was to run holding my head down, waiting for my home to come crumbing down to the ground. My rapid processing mechanism was concluding that Saudi is back at bombarding us, in sequence with th...
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