Kaleidoscope

Grief- Across The Sky, In Stars

What she wanted to scream, what she wanted to tell them, was to stop romanticizing grief.

There was nothing glamorous about the constricting, burning inferno of pain that stuck in her throat and sunk in her heart.

There was nothing poetic about the manner in which it tightened in her chest, physically, yet not entirely tangibly, forcing the very breath from her lungs. To be numb, an aftermath, worse.

The twisted lullaby of memories and moments which, so stunningly precious, coursed like bittersweet poison through her very veins, weighing heavily on her mind.

Grief, unlike the fairytales, was far from desirable.

It clawed at her, like demons in the darkness, at 03:00, until she choked on stifled screams and half-shed tears.

How terrible it was to mourn the living, whilst trying to still live.

How tiresome it was to fall apart so silently, whilst the world around remained so oblivious.

To gain the perception of a warrior, whose battle would never cease, was both heroic and a curse.

For oblivion was always sweeter; for humanity's downfalls could not fully taint a heart that felt too much.

Grief was not beautiful.

It was harsh, and merciless, and unforgivingly unbearable.