Grief follows loss. Always has.
But it's not just sadness.
It's your brain buffering, while your heart sits empty.
Confusion, dressed up as ache.
It shows up, when someone leaves.
When a dream quietly dies.
When life changes course overnight.
Sometimes, it storms in.
Some other time, it sneaks in, weeks later.
No timetable.
No app to track.
And it isn't only for the dead.
Or a career that never happened.
Or a version of you that quietly changed.
Or a relationship still breathing, but nothing like it was.
Nobody sends flowers for those.
Doesn't mean they don't ache.
Here's the thing:
Grief is a receipt.
Proof, something was real.
Proof, it mattered enough to hurt when it left.
You can't return it.
You can't get a refund.
You just learn to carry it.
Talking helps.
Writing helps.
Sometimes just sitting with it helps.
Refuse grief. And you'd have to refuse love too.
Is that living?
If you could erase the receipt,
would you erase what it proved?
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