"Mother died today. Or maybe it was yesterday. I don't remember."
Life is bitter.
I am no stranger to the revelation.
I am no stranger to suffering or to the feelings of misery and seemingly unending doom.
My own expectations about my life were low but holy fuck.
In all of my seventeen years of life, I never thought that a day would come that everything I'm feeling and the first chapter to my life could be perfectly defined by the first few lines of The Outsider by Albert fucking Camus.
YOU ARE READING
The Science of Grief
Short Story"No ten steps rule or whatever, just write it all out, the shit'll sort itself out." Life is filled with some sort of catch to it, some irony and laced with some unnamed tragedy. We all have our coping mechanisms, our way to feel warmth. Delicate as...
