After the funeral,
I felt numb.
I couldn’t focus,
anything anyone was saying
sounded blurred.
Everything seemed slower,
I felt the world slow down.
The impact of her death
hadn’t hit me,
until after people started
to apologize.
And these weren’t her friends,
or my friends,
or family member,
like they previously were.
These were strangers;
people I never had contact with
before, and suddenly
took it upon themselves
to attempt at comfort.
A young woman came up
and gave me a hug,
and told me it was going to be alright.
But what does she know?
I don’t know her,
she definitely doesn’t know
who I am.
How can she just think
some kind of assuring gesture
is going to make everything better.
She’s gone.
Nothing’s ever going to get better.
It won’t be okay.
So thanks,
but no thanks.
