You Arenβt Alone in Your Grief
My grief isnβt poetic. Nor is it underlined with a beautiful message. Itβs visceral. Itβs raw. Itβs an open wound being picked at over and over again. Itβs all consuming. Itβs ugly, harsh, and cruel. Itβs repetitive in nature. Reminding me of what brought me to this point.
What did bring me to this point? The initial answer is obvious: loss. The more complicated question that needs to be askedβ¦
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