Greif doesn't want this anymore than you do. You're hurting yourself running away from it. Grief is inevitable. It's the price of love. Grief just needs to be heard. It won't ever go far but Grief can leave your home and become your companionable neighbour instead. (11/11)

Grief is an inconsiderate roommate. But so are you. You shut down and deflect. You refuse to talk. You shove the difficult things deep down and stamp hard on them when they try to come back up. You take Grief's work and drown it in booze. You hide from it in clouds of green smoke. (10/11)

Like any relationship, you know that you need to communicate for things to change. You know you need to talk to Grief and listen to what it has to say in return. You know that comprimising will help. Grief has a job and you're not letting it go to work. (9/11)

Grief is changing you. Grief is as stuck here as you are. It's hard to remember who lashed out first. It's hard to remember why that matters. It hard to remember what it was like before Grief lived here. Maybe it was always here. (8/11)

Keeping Grief trapped in your house is making you ill. You don't recognise yourself anymore. You ache constantly. You feel so ugly inside that the ugliness outside becomes secondary. Grief invaded your space but you're not letting it out. (7/11)

Sometimes you can see the sun through the gap in the curtains. Sometimes you see a bird fly past the window. Sometimes a breeze sneaks in through the vents and you feel like maybe you'll be okay. (6/11)

Grief has no sense of personal space, no understanding of boundaries. It crawls on top of you while you sleep and refuses to move when you wake. You spend all day pinned underneath it. Trapped. (5/11)

Grief sets all your feelings on edge. Makes you snappy and irritable. Makes you so angry you find yourself doing and saying things that embarrass you. (4/11)

So you sit in the living room, tucked tight into the corner of the sofa while Grief sprawls out next to you, taking up all the space. It talks over your TV shows and flips the pages of your books before you've finished reading. It calls you whenever you go out, constantly buzzing away. (3/11)

You fantasise about it. Shutting the door on Grief, ignoring how it screams and pounds on your door. But nothing would drown it out, it wouldn't go away, it would just attract an audience. (2/11)

Then I redirect my anger towards the other big kids for not doing it for him/stealing him something that will close from the weapon place. They spend the whole ass season keeping him safe! And then he gets eaten! Preventatively consumed! Gobbled up!! 😫 they made me like that looser then ATE HIM!!! 😤