The Wall

There was a point where I realized people wanted my grief to become more narratively useful than it actually is. Like they were waiting for the redemptive arc. The insight. The softened edges. The reassuring version where I can tell them what I learned and everyone gets to leave the conversation feeling like suffering can be metabolized into wisdom on schedule. Nah. Sometimes what I learned is that life can be savage and unfair and still require me to pack lunches in the morning. Sometimes what I learned is that love doesn’t protect you from loss — it just deepens the cut. Sometimes what I learned is that people don’t know what to say, and honestly neither do I. Not everything worth saying comes with a silver lining attached to its ass.