It Seems Unfair That the Sun Can Still Shine.

For a brief interlude, I actually managed to avoid blogging and fleetingly submerge myself in study.

But I feel like I need to write about this.
I don't feel like I can do much else.

I feel a compulsion,
to get it down,
to sort out my feelings.

I don't really know how I feel about this,
I'm not an absolute wreck.
But hanging about waiting for someone to come back or go away twists at your insides.

Others comfort and console,
and its nice,
being reminded of the support around you.

But you're not the one who needs help,
you're fine,
you're always fine.

But it hurts to know that she's suspended in an awful place.
Even life or death has a grey patch in between.
Where is your joie de vivre now?

And to watch the unstoppable crumble,
and preoccupy themselves with the mundane,

is painful.

They're not mourning,
there's nothing yet to mourn.
But they're all running scared
and preparing for the worst.

And everyday life
seems so

insignificant.

To good friends, thank you.