Thoughts on grief
I just woke up from a pool of pain. It was not the dream itself, but rather the realization that it was not real that felt like a cold shower. It just felt terrible, yet it is true.
I remember my time in high school. It clearly had its problems, I wasnt so mature back than, even though it was just a couple of years ago. But it felt much better. It gave integrity, of some sort. I knew I can walk out into class and know every person, know what they want to be talked about. So I fitted in. And it was great. It was definetely a great experience. But then my country was invaded, again, and everythnig started to fall apart. I remember recovering from a sickness and going to my school for the first time in weeks, which I was very happy about, and on the very next day I was on the other end of the country, hiding in a shelter. Everyone moved. There still was some fun when we had our whole collective together in a single call, but it was just temporary. That was basically it for my school as a source of integrity in my life. Everything just moved on like nothinng had ever happened. And I moved farther and farther away. You cant make evevrything like it was back then, time just goes on. And it constantly comes back to you in the middle of years-long tension as both a relief and a grief, to tell yout that it is still possible, yet the thing that proves it is so far away in the past, almost unachievable. Fitting in just doesnt work anymore. It worked when people were at least somewhat close to you in some sense. Yet when people are drastically different it feels like a form of suicide, where you just give yourself away to others. That made me rethink whether trying to fit in even is that necessary. Clearly it is not, it is not the way of life, it is an occasional tool at the very most. But this I have yet to experience.
This is something different from what I have written yesterday. Makes me think it was honest. Great job from my side, I guess.