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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