[An Honest Monologue]
a true, original short read about my grief.

I've been in the same spot for five years. A constant, nagging feeling that refuses to go away. Sure, it ebbs and fades occasionally, leaving me with some peace, but then it comes back and hits harder than before. People have told me so many things—'it gets better', 'you are strong enough to get through this', 'they wouldn't want you to be sad', 'it will make you stronger', etcetera. Well, none of that happened, not in a smooth, "correct" way anyway. Grief is different for everyone, and you can't expect one person to feel the same way you did when you lost someone. Death is sudden, and it hurts—no one can prepare you for the feeling you gain when someone you love dies. It's an emptiness that leaves you questioning everything and can never be replaced. Each item in your home becomes significant, a constant reminder of your lost loved one and the life they left behind. I have not moved on, and I don't think there is such a thing as "moving on". You don't move on or get better, you survive. And you survive because there's not another choice. And I'm so sorry that's the way it is, life is so unfair, and you don't deserve to be hurting like this. It's the hard way, but it's the right way. The world is going to keep spinning,...