That's What She Said

The Five Stages of Grief

Denial

He asks me how I know the five stages of grief.

The question takes me off guard,

Like a deer in the headlights

No.

More guilty than that.

Like a criminal caught red handed.

And I smile with a laugh that doesn't meet my eyes and

blame it on my emo phase,

I have enough shitty Hot Topic t-shirts to back it up.

Besides, it was common psychology knowledge anyways

Nothing more

Nothing less

Anger

As ashamed as I am to admit it,

The first thought I had when I found out what had happened

What you had done

Was not "Holy shit"

Or "Is she okay?"

Those responses followed shortly after, but originally my reaction was

"How could you be so selfish".

I had reached out to you just weeks before

I had asked you to call me

I had pleaded for you to open up

And for what?

How could you just throw caution to the wind?

Death was easy for you,

You were the one being missed-

I was the one who had to miss you, how could you be so selfish?

To put such a burden on my shoulders,

While you floated away to someplace better

And for a split second I almost hated you for it

Bargaining

Have you ever made a deal with God?

When after all things have gone wrong,

Each potential solution to your problems exhausted,

And you finally turn to an unknown higher power?

Where you say

"God, I know I haven't been the best person alive but,

Please.

Please let her live.

I'll go to church each Sunday morning from here on out,

I'll donate all my money to charity,

Hell, I'll become a nun if that's what it takes,

Just let her be okay.

Amen"

Depression

They say that you should swap your pillows out every 3 years,

They're like sponges, soaking in all your

Dead skin cells,

Your "bodily fluids".

My pillows have soaked up so many of my tears

That there's probably enough salt in them to fill a salt shaker.

Gross.

Every tear shed after a nightmare,

Or maybe just another day.

When I think back to that time it all blurs together,

Like I was looking at the world through the eyes of Monet.

Colors softened, unfocused.

Each 3 am crying session-

Y'know I used to be afraid of 3 am.

The idea of a witching hour was enough to scare me

back under the covers of my bed.

Now there's no fear,

I have nothing left to lose.

It's all dulled over.

Everything is

Grey.

Acceptance

When people talk about recovery, they only talk about half of it.

They say "One day you'll be okay, good as new",

They don't say "This will haunt the rest of your days,

Steal sleep from your cold, clammy hands,

Snatch your smiles right off your teeth,

And crush your happiness into dust".

And why would they?

There's a reason why each fairytale ends with

"And they lived happily ever after".

It's simpler,

Easier that way.

But this.

This is not "easy"

This is gut wrenching,

Heart breaking,

Scream inducing,

Hair-rippingly

Hard.

It's fucking hard.

To pick and choose which memories of you I want to hold onto,

How to hold onto them.

You never realize just how little you remember someone's facial features until you try to

Remember them.

Each smile,

Freckle,

Hairstyle,

Slipping away from my mind as I desperately try to hold on.

But,

Maybe holding on isn't what I need.

Maybe...

What I need is to be free,

Free to move from this hell,

To move on to a new stage in my life-

I won't forget this one,

But,

I need more colors than

Grey.

~*~
I really need better descriptive words than grey lmao.

Anyways this was kind of a random upload, but I hope you enjoy it all the same :)