Another Throw Back Thursday Post:
I started trying to listen to music more normally the other day. That turned out to be a bad idea.
He and I shared SO MUCH music that listening to entire genres ended up making me terribly sad. Whether it was a significant song or not, just knowing how he felt about it, whether he would have liked it or not, how he would have sung it or played it on his guitar in Rock Band, or rapped along with the spoken parts made me cry, because he’ll never do any of those things again.
I couldn’t handle it. So I’m relegated to a few genres that either he didn’t like, or he and I didn’t listen to together all that much. That means Rock is out. Rap is out. 60s – 80s is pretty much out….. so many things are out. At least for now. It makes me angry, to tell the truth. I’m mad that his action ruined something so important to me, even if it’s only temporary.
I’m so sick of being sad. I’m sick of crying. I’m tired, too. I’m tired of being strong. I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of just existing right now. It seems like everything is SO MUCH WORK.
Grief sucks, yo.
I’m tired of being alone. I feel bad admitting that, because there are so many people who are wanting to help me, who are wanting to be there for me. But he was the one I trusted. He was the one I went to. He was the one I could be comfortable with. And now I don’t have that, and I feel abandoned. Lonely. Hopeless.
I fear I’m starting to wear on people. That my sadness is becoming a burden. It’s been six weeks. I feel like people are going to start thinking I should buck up and start being more ok than I am. That I should find the happiness in my life. I was told the other day when I said that I couldn’t see ever being happy again that I had things to be happy about, and that I could be both. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I can’t. I know the person who said it was trying to help me feel comfortable with both emotions. I know I didn’t express myself well enough to explain that it wasn’t as much that I felt guilty if I felt happy (though, I have, so far, if I have been happy), but that I can’t seem to BE happy.
I have to get through this. I have no choice in the matter. But gods, right now all I want to do is go hide in a cave, curl up, and die. I won’t. I can’t. But boy howdy, do I wish I could.
So I listen to new folk music, or indie, and wait for the time I can turn on the Beatles, or some 80s hair band, and grin at the memories, rather than cry.
He loved this whole album, taught me to love it, and spoke often of how this song was so touching, since it was for a band-mate who’d died.
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