with two edges

I want to start this by saying that I know everybody has their own experiences with grief. I ust want to talk about mine.

It's such a strange phenomenon and huge pain in the ass. I hate it. I love it. I know it helps me ad I know it fucks up my mental health. It's the double-edged sword of all double-edged swords so far in my life.

I feel like I'm in a different timeline; before and after grief had reared its big head. It feels like I'm a different person. And it's not even the same with everybody's death that I know of. I didn't feel anything when my father died. We're not close anyway. But when my cat died, it felt like the world did a flip and crashed down on me. At the moment, I'm still trying to dig myself out of the rubble. It's so fucked.

This could've been said in a more articulate way but I'm not in the mood tonight and I learned that raw feelings often sound better through raw writing. The less eloquent the better. At least when it comes to my writing.