Grief hides like a recurrent melody in the back of my mind. So | My fucked up Eмσтισиѕ🥀

Grief hides like a recurrent melody in the back of my mind. Sometimes so faint I can hardly know that it’s there. Sometimes so loud I cannot hear any of my thoughts. Sometimes it wears a disguise of smiles and I’m-all-rights, sometimes it screams and kicks and throws me to the ground. Sometimes I tie it to a chair and sometimes I’m the hostage with Stockholm syndrome. A pesky tenant with a penchant for torture that colors my mind with scenarios of what-ifs and nevers. I’m tired and I just wish I knew when it will shed its skin to become acceptance that doesn’t hurt anymore.