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seen from Japan
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from China
seen from United States
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seen from Japan

seen from Japan
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seen from United States

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I am always expected to cry at funerals.
But my eyes stay dry, and in the flicker of my lashes, they call me hollow— an empty vessel waiting for grief to take shape. As if sorrow only matters when it spills over, raw and visible. I search for what feels lost, as if I could hold it in my hands. Something to show the world I am not untouched. The dirt hits the coffin with a dull thud, sobs ripple through the crowd, the young, too young to understand, and all I feel is an aching stillness.
All I have is a sigh, a tremor in my fingers, and a tension coiled so tight it will never unravel into tears. Or maybe I’ve just always known— death has never needed our weeping.
live blogging a funeral tomorrow ✧・゚: *✧・゚:*(❁´◡`❁)
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The logical side of my brain is like: you’re sad. Don’t drink too much tonight
And then the angsty side of my brain is like: You're sad. Treat yourself to a blackout.
I have to go to my girlfriends funeral tomorrow and I dunno how the hell I’m gonna deal with that.
my mom wants me to go to a funeral I DON'T WANT TO GO I DON'T KNOW THESE PEOPLE
"oh, you remember! we had lunch at their house once when you were 8."
mother, I don't remember the names of my friends from the last school year...
"oh just say your condolences and go home, you don't have to stay."
DON'T PLAY DUMB, YOU KNOW THEY'RE GOING TO ASK ME TO STAY
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY NO TO THE HOST OF A FUNERAL???? I'M NOT THAT HEARTLEASS!!!