rivers


I keep waiting for the scabs to heal over this bleeding grief, everyone can smell the fresh blood and gravitates or runs in the other direction. I’ve known for a few years that when the time came and I’d let out all of the emotions I’ve been suppressing, they’d come so fast that my head will crack open and I’m scared of not being able to swim the floods. But now they seep slowly like a festering blister. Bracing myself for years to lose everything and everyone that connects me to my Syrian home, unwinding trauma from myself as I adapt and cope to an alerted existence. The cadence of human suffering has always hummed a thread throughout my life and slowly I absorb the love that comes flooding from me in a compassion held. I’m disgusted by being human and watching humans be human, suffering from the affliction of being.

Losing a close friend has me in internal shock; screaming & numb. It isn’t that I’m holding back, I’m literally smiling functional on the outside and ripping apart my former selves like a snake shedding an internal skin. Spun in a tilt-a-whirl that threatened to unmask my shivering grief into sobs of sorrow and joy as adaptation ripped at my seams and held me breathless. I don’t go back and forth, always both the outer mental edges of emotion and a heart of cold calculating logic.

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