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Showing posts from August, 2016

What is grief but a farce?

Am I grieving? I can’t say I am. I am laughing as hard as I can and as often I can. I am nervous. I laugh easily, though not sure, entirely. I prefer my work over anything else, i.e. periodically calling my husband, chatting with my mum or dad or even meeting friends. I want to be busy. Right now I am writing to keep myself busy. I have furiously read three books back to back, hardly retaining most of it. Momentarily enjoyed their narratives and shed a tear or two where required.
I resorted to watching dumb Hindi soaps and poured out my time, and love for my canine friend. I keep assuaging myself I am physically fit, which I am, albeit overweight now. I am hyper. I react wildly to things that are of no consequence. For e.g. my husband eating up the chocolate bars I was so looking forward to. Was I, really? Not sure. However, angry I was. My hatred is stronger and so is my remorse.
I judge and I repent. Yet I refuse to forgive. Am I holding onto too much? Did it weigh her down? I am n…