WYG Prompt: the voice of my grief

This prompt was to let my grief speak for itself; that is, if my grief were a character, what would it say? Spoiler alert: nothing good.

I am your grief. You cannot see me - not really - because I am a shapeshifter. One moment I’m a monstrous, terrifying beast with sharp teeth and claws and glowing, red eyes, whose sole purpose is to remind you over and over that you had one great love, and now you’ll spend the rest of your life alone and longing for the love you’ll never have again. The next moment, I’m your favorite memory of Doug, intent on making you smile for just a moment before ripping your heart out again.

I am your grief. I arrive, unbidden and unwelcome… and I will never leave your side however hard you try to evict me. Try to medicate or distract me away with alcohol, drugs, sex, food, exercise, TV, shopping; really, give it a shot! It won’t work, of course; not for long, anyway. And I’ll bounce back even more vicious than I was before: that’s your punishment for ignoring me, you see. 

I am your grief. I invade your mind and your heart and your entire body. I decide what you think and feel; I decide what you can accomplish; I decide whether you’ll be able to eat or sleep; I decide when you can have a conversation that doesn’t end with you crying; I decide everything. You belong to me now.

I am your grief. I confuse you, making you wonder if Doug ever really loved you at all, or if he’s glad to be free of you. I ally myself with your anxiety, and together we fill your mind with negative self-talk that you’d never say, even to your worst enemy. 

People will tell you that time heals everything. People will tell you that it never gets better. ONE of those groups of people is wrong, and it’s the former: Time does NOT heal everything. In fact, time heals nothing. Time DOES nothing but pass. Now, that second group? They’re right some of the time, and they’re wrong some of the time. No way to tell which camp you’ll fall into, though. It’s much more fun anyway for me to make you think that you’ll always feel as dead inside and hopeless as you do right now.

People will tell you that I am the price you pay for love -  that the pain I feed you as a steady diet is in equal measure to the love you and Doug shared. They’re right; I can only grow as big as your love was; I can only be as ugly as your love was beautiful; I can only be as excruciating as your love was blissful. 

Doug is dead. I took his place; now I am your permanent life companion. I am your grief.