Writing is therapeutic to me, and expressiveness often opens me up and lightens my spirit. I did it for years on other social apps, and somehow it saw me through and sometimes I can't imagine how I went through those turbulent times.
The turbulent times are back, and with my brother's death, the only explanation is he probably developed an underlying issue from the accident he had last year which only sufficed at this period.
The days seem to be long, and for someone who does not have enough time out of 24 hours, it is contrasting to always watch the clock and wonder if I'll ever recover. I spent most of the last 4 days eating less, sleeping less, and crying more. Sometimes, I grab my phone too quickly while away time, but that therapy isn't working.
I tried seeing if I could go on a trip far away, but my mind was too blurred, and apparently, no one would want a messed up fellow, showing up to disturb their peace. I'm used to mourning, but this is different, a young was full of life, surely if he had been ill, then maybe I might get some closure.
The external pressure hits. The heart of people can be desperately wicked, and in these perilous times, I've only noticed that most people who want to share your pain are just pedestrians who hardly know what you're going through.
They're just there to fill the void and be tagged with "sympathizers" at the end of the day, they're either just there for the thrill of it, or just to compound your situation. I choose to write to pass time off, I've prayed, I've sulked and I've sat down for days staring at the ceiling and wondering what I could have done differently to change the outcome of everything that has happened to me in the past 4 to 5 days. It's harder with people who are applying the pressure.
Apparently, my life will no longer remain the same. I know this, but accepting and adjusting to this reality of change has been tough. People want you to be strong in the exact situation where they wouldn't be able to hold themselves. It's this concept that I don't understand.
I don't understand how humans can be so caring in death, but indifferent, less concerned, and invisible when one is alive. The amount of fakery I've experienced in the past few days is adding to my grief, and hearing people say the same thing over and over again is not just scary, it makes me wonder how they (people) can be insensitive to the pain of others.
Sadly not all humans put themselves in the shoes of others before acting. It's a wicked world out there and sometimes you just need to be vulnerable to understand how indifferent and insensitive people can be. I don't know, I think choosing to write is just a band-aid, I'm in a deeper mess than I realize, I choose not to see it this way, but laying in bed at night, this is when I begin to realize that I'm in a lot of mess. Talking to people around has been worse, sitting in my living room is as terrible, but it helps me shut out the insensitive noise.
I don't even want to talk about the insensitivity of my external family members, they knew the boy all through, he struggled with a lot, and they didn't lift a finger to render the assistance he wanted of them, now they are about pressure, and inflicting it from different angles. It's been 5 days and it feels like ten years already, Maybe I just need to throw my phones in a ditch, leave home, and just go away for as long as possible.