Solitude

In the early days, I wanted so much to be completely alone. I was in deep and didn’t want to talk about anything to anyone. But more importantly, I didn’t want to explain to anyone how or what I was feeling. This was my own personal darkness that no one was permitted to have access to. Ok, maybe my therapist had a bit of access.

But now, I’m completely alone and wish certain people would at least reach out. I’m assuming it’s too hard for them to contemplate his death. I get it. I still can’t believe it myself most days. But, I have zero empathy for that bullshit copout. Grow up! I’ve had to endure this every second of my life the last few years. There’s nothing for me to look forward to anymore. And you can’t even take the time to check that I’m still alive?

Go fuck yourself!

I know it’s uncomfortable to talk to a grieving person. But, get over yourself. You get to spend a few minutes contemplating the depressive state I’m in, then go back to normal. You selfish twat.

Now, the better side of me says, “Remember the ones that do reach out. Those are your people now. They will support you.” And, I’m right of course. As always. But what about those ‘ride or die’ friends and family that you always assumed would support you the most?

They too are becoming dead to me.