The five stages of grief is a lie. A sick lie with a disgusting happy ending: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance. It’s all lies, the only true stage is depression.
They say the pain ends soon, but it really doesn’t. It just sits there, waiting for that point where I remember them, waiting for me to feel guilty because I laughed and had forgotten the grief that had encased my heart. It lies there waiting to force me into a self blaming game.
YOU were the cause of their death.
YOU are the one to blame.
YOU did this.
It takes all of my strength to wake up and get out of bed, knowing very well I don’t deserve to be alive. They tell me to get over it, but I can’t. They say to see a therapist, but I don’t want to. I know I deserve to feel this pain; though this isn’t at all measurable to the pain they had to endure, it’s close. I don’t deserve the food I eat, the clothes I wear, the family and friends I have after what terrible deeds I have done. All I want to do is see them and apologize again and again about how wrong and dreadful I had treated them. But I don’t even deserve to see them again. They were good and wholesome to all, and I manipulated and twisted their kindness and love to wrap them around my finger like a sedated and drowsy snake.
And before they could strike back, I struck first.