Burning Twice As Bright

I seem to be writing about only one thing lately.

In the day, there are rushes of contentment amidst moments of clarity. Little things, like driving on the highway, feeling the wind ruffle my hair. Waking up to the fresh, cool morning air that signals the oncoming autumn. It all feels great, and for a moment, I can think of nothing else but how wonderful it all is.

The night is another story. The sky draws it’s curtains, leaving me with only haunting memories that turn vivid when the sun no longer washes them out. The darkness is only a reminder of the void she once filled with the very vibrancy of her soul, and without her presence to intoxicate me, I’m left feeling numb.

Jesus christ, I could go on and on.

I wonder why anyone would read all these ramblings about love and loss. Isn’t it just the same shit over and over again? But love is the only thing I do well. Love is the only thing I know, and I can only write that which I know.

In time, I’ll have just as much to say in celebration, but for now, I need to get everything else out of my system, stoking the fires of grief until I run out of fuel.


  1. I’ve been grieving for 2 years. It’s ok to let it out as many times as you need or want.

    I totally understand.

    • Jeez, I hope to be over this in two years. I think it’ll be easier and quicker for me because I know I did everything I could, so I don’t have any sense of regret, just a sense of loss. If I had regret too, then it would certainly protract the grieving process.

  2. I love those “moments of clarity” but they are so short-lived.

    Night time and weekends used to be the worst for me…

    Mornings are now the worst for me… probably because she’s been haunting my dreams every single night for the past week…

    • Short-lived is right. There are so many hours of sunlight in a day, and fewer and fewer as the winter comes. Oddly enough, weekends aren’t too bad for me, but that’s probably because I can keep myself distracted. It’s when I’m stressed out on weeknights that I find myself habitually seeking the comfort of her company.

  3. I think friends would have considered my grieving over 10 years or so. It’s been over 15 now and I’m still a bit bent. But I think it’s a lovely thing to put on a tombstone (being the maudlin person I sometimes become): “Love is the only thing I do well.”

    I love that!

    • Hah, I generally don’t agree with lines on tombstones, because I don’t think you could sum up a person with one line (or me, at least), but I could probably accept that one.

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