(no subject)
I've always thought of grief as like living underground. All spongy and muffled like that. You're not yourself. Maybe you even do things you don't know you're doing, like throwing things that shouldn't be thrown, or talking to people that don't want to listen. But then a day comes when the unbearable thing isn't the first thing you think of. It's the second. And then comes another day, when a muffin on a plate makes your mouth water, and you notice that food tastes like food again. And then another day, when you're all the way through breakfast and partly dressed before the unbearable thing pops into your head, and you realize you've been waiting and waiting, for a month, maybe, or a year, or two years, or five, you've been asking yourself, 'When will life begin?' And all of a sudden you see that it already has. It began when you weren't paying any attention.