Sweet pain

Feeling

I think some never heal

They just get numb

They numb the pain

Until all that’s left for them is numbness

Instead of facing their demons

They run from them.

They run from them

until they trip and fall

Then they give up

And let their demons feed on their thoughts

And because of the unbearable, inevitable pain

And because they can’t run any longer

They give in

They numb the pain with numbness

They decide that feeling nothing is better than feeling at all

Until all that’s left is a hollow shell of existence

Grief fascinates me. Before you now close this book and call me crazy, please hear me out first.

Grief is a terrible feeling to feel – it hurts and makes you feel helpless. But who am I to tell you this? You probably have more experience with it than you wish you had. But this is exactly what I find interesting, we all grief, and we all do so, so very differently. We grief not only in different ways but also different things.

We often grief loved ones who had too little time on this earth, and we also often grief times we had or grief in advance for something that most likely is going to happen, because why wouldn’t it, because it always happens to you …

And here’s the thing: Grief is like rain – because of it, we appreciate happiness and contentment so much more. It shows us how much someone or something means to us. And just like rain, it flushes our systems to make room for that beautiful fresh, sweet smell after it rains, where everything is still, and the world feels alright for a moment.

That is what fascinates me, how a feeling that hurts so much can make you feel a little bit okay as well. I guess that’s the lesson, isn’t it? Let the feeling be, let it consume you, let it impact you and then, let it go.

So simple in theory, but this book is supposed to be an honest one so, I’ll be just that and let you know that every time grief will hit me again, I most likely won’t remember this very simple lesson and feel like it is the most terrible thing to ever happen to anyone – true to my dramatic self.