five stages of grief

most of the time i am confused.

i reenact conversations in my head, changing the script to make the story more concise. no scenario can rewrite what has already happened.

i go back and forth, up and down the timeline trying to find the mistake. looking for the answer that was in plain sight.

there is no such interpretation that could bring any kind of respite.

i’m full of an anger so foreign to me.

a permanent frown and a furrowed brow, a scoff at the wind. i need to expel this hatred from my lungs, cough it up and spit it out.

or maybe i need to yell, scream, exclaim my frustrations. belt them into existence so they can dissipate into the air.

my dear friend envy, with her emerald green eyes, hasn't come to visit.

i wish i could be fueled by jealousy. make rash and revengeful decisions. meet one or two distractions with pretty smiles and gentle hands. i want to flaunt my capability to feel no remorse.

while skepticism does not come into play here, it would make things a hell of a lot simpler.

i'm only ever sad when i remember i'm alone.

that melancholy feeling comes and goes in a blink. my heart sinks to my feet and i feel like i have died for a split second, the resentment resuscitates me.

now my heart is beating faster than my blood can keep up. my eye twitches and my hands tremble.

the side effects of my momentary heartache.

acceptance comes easy.

going through all steps of the process to accept something i've already accepted.

i've carried this potential loss around with me. i mourned what was still alive and flourishing. i knew what i was experiencing was too good to be true.

i am grieving but not in the way you would assume.

my lamentation is feigned. i'm merely doing what i'm advised to do. it's pointless, i have nothing to grieve.

i foresaw the end at the beginning and prepared myself for the worst before it came.