the anxious foxx

i don't know if i want tomorrow to come.

[the-anxious-foxx]

i'm afraid that my depression is all that anyone sees, that it's my only quality — my entire personality.

so when, somewhere in the future where it may be gone, will there be nothing left of me?

[the-anxious-foxx]

when people ask me how i am or how i’m feeling: i guess, literally.

my guess is as good as yours ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[the-anxious-foxx]

it's a wound that never heals and will forever mar your skin. you can try and cover it as much as you can. bandage it. or let it breathe—let it scab over, but it's all in vain.

some days, the surrounding skin is raw and stinging, and other days there's just a dull throbbing.

some days, you forget it exists. those days are rare, but still happen. some of those days there's something nagging at the back of your mind—you know you're forgetting something. and then when it hits you—ah. right. how could i ever forget? that you're not here with me anymore? 

the guilt that follows those days is unbearable—the wound festers, oozing blood and pus. the pain makes you delirious and you bitterly laugh to yourself, "ha, if only there were an antibiotic for heart ache—if only there were some magic pill that could bring you back".

[the-anxious-foxx]

how do people know what they’re feeling?

the way i figure mine out is by taking my body’s physiological responses and trying to piece it together—but most emotions are too abstract to be able to distinguish just from that.

you don’t have to cry to be sad—and just because you’re crying, doesn’t mean that you’re sad.

like, people who can genuinely recognize their own emotions have a superpower that they don’t even realize that they have.

[the-anxious-foxx]

today, it’s exactly five months since you left and three weeks since your ashes were buried.

still doesn’t feel real. 

[the-anxious-foxx]

a couple months ago, i found the bracelet you were planning on giving her tomorrow. now instead, she’ll already be wearing it when she graduates. 

i feel so lucky that you got to see me graduate last year (although through a live-stream) and at the same time, i feel so guilty and sad for my sister who won’t get that tomorrow. 

but when i found that bracelet, i almost cried, and i thought “that’s so like grandma”.

[the-anxious-foxx]

she’s there from the moment you’re conscious, sometimes being an ally and other times your enemy.

she’s a rollercoaster. sometimes slowly but steadily, she’s climbing an incline. other times she plunges you straight down, going so fast your heart’s about to burst.

she’s untouchable, absolute, omnipresent.

she wrecks havoc. she heals your wounds and turns them to scars. she gives you wrinkles, fine lines and gray hair.

she gives you memories—in your mind she’s frozen, like she was never there.

you wish for a world without her, a world where everything would just stand still, yet you know that impossible, universe of eternity, would not be worth anything—because what would hold any value if she’s not there?

all moments would last forever. it would be like playing a city builder where you have infinite resources. after a while, you get sick of it, because there’s nothing to strive for. nothing at stake.

but still, you wish for that world anyway, because then at least you’d always have your loved ones near. she’d never be able to take them away from you, tear them—and you—apart.

time is both a blessing and a curse. a double edged sword. it doesn’t give a fuck about your feelings. not everyone get the same amount either.

time is unfair. cruel. authoritarian.

but time also is what gives things value. money can’t buy happiness, but time can.

[the-anxious-foxx]

there are three things in life that are guaranteed.

you’re born.

you live.

you die.

by the time you’re aware of it, you’re already on the second statement; everyday taking you a step closer to the third and final statement.

and there’s nothing you can do about it. you can decide to take that final step prematurely, take matters into you’re own hands, but that doesn’t change the fact that you die.

[the-anxious-foxx]

why is it that you always remember the things you want to forget, yet always forget the things you want to remember?

how do i exploit this, take advantage of this—so i can never forget you? do i just focus on the ugly parts, the parts that keep me up at night?

if i only remember those parts of you, then do i really remember you, if i don’t remember all of you?

[the-anxious-foxx]

no one ever wishes to experience it, yet we all do, sooner or later. some more than others.

no matter how prepared you may think you are, no matter how many times you’ve experienced it before: it fucking hurts. perhaps even more so.

once it shows up at your doorstep, it’ll make itself at home in your heart. you beg and plead for this uninvited guest to leave you, but it never quite does. it’s a pest that hides in all nooks and crannies: ever-changing as it tears you apart from the inside out.

even with time it lingers, never ceasing, nor fading—just morphs from sharp, searing, that of a billion paper cuts in your heart—to a dull, pulsing ache. it constricts your breathing, makes you choke on nothing as it holds you down by its chains. it leaves you feeling empty inside, like the hole in your heart that started this all.

this is loss.

[stay-close]

I can't make you understand. I can't make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I can't even explain it to myself.

— Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

[gothigh2fly]

They say "time heals", but even now ... I know that's a lie. What people really mean is that eventually you'll get used to the pain. You'll forget who you were without it; you'll forget what you looked like without your scars.

— Claudia Gray, A Thousand Pieces of You

[grievingendlessly]

It's so hard to get better, because every step forward in coping with grief feels like a step away from you and I don't want to leave you behind. I feel so guilty for working on it and I'm so sorry. I love you, and I always will.

[the-anxious-foxx]

what i wouldn’t give to see you again.

i feel like my heart’s being torn apart—like it’s been ripped from my chest and tossed in a wood chipper.

fuck, i miss you so much.

and the thought that i can never see you again, doesn’t feel real.

[the-anxious-foxx]

it’s been a month and a day now since you left this world, and not a single day has gone by without, let alone, thinking about you, but missing you terribly.

i can’t seem to get used to speaking about you in past tense. i don’t know if i ever will.

it still doesn’t feel real that i’ll never see you again. never talk to you again. never hear your voice again. never see your smile again. never hear your laughter again. never make new memories with you.

you’ll forever be in my heart. i’ll never forget you. even when i’m old and grey, i swear i’ll never forget you.

you were the best grandma i ever could’ve asked for. so, thank you grandma for loving me unconditionally. i’m glad that you’re not in pain anymore, but a selfish part of me wishes you were still here.

[the-anxious-foxx]

every little thing reminds me of you.

i thought walking through a grocery store would be fine. everyone else seems fine, so why am i the only one on the brink of tears?

i wish i could just smile and see the happiness in those memories, but i can’t. all i can think of is how i don’t want to lose you. not yet. not ever.

how do they do it? how do they not fall apart at the sight of the chocolate you always gave us for christmas, or even just at the mention of you?

i can’t even open my mouth to say anything without strain to hold back my tears, hold them back from spilling over. perhaps it’s because they’re not emotional constipated like me.

i doubt you have the answer, but i know you wouldn’t want me to be sad. i’m sorry. but i also know you wouldn’t want me to hold it in and bottle it up.

fuck. i don’t know what to do—don’t know how to carry on.

älskar dig, min lilla mormor.

[the-anxious-foxx]

don’t go, not yet—it’s too soon. please don’t leave me behind. i want to make more happy memories with you. my sweet, sweet little grandma. i love you with all of my heart.

i don’t want to say goodbye and i’m scared that today is the last day i ever get to see you. i’m not even sure if you were aware that i was there, but i think you did. i wish you could’ve had the strength to open your eyes to see me wearing that fancy sanitary getup, had the strength to laugh at how ridiculous i looked.

i’m sorry for talking too long about nothing of importance, wasting your precious energy. i wish i could give you mine. i would give anything just to be able to talk to you again—to see you smile again.

i don’t want to imagine a life without you.