Diary writing person
Slowly descending into madness
2 days ago I posted something on my facebook. I post a lot of bullshit, 80% of them are mindless bullshit, this wasn’t one of them.
Grief is very sneaky. A sound. A scent. A song. A smile becomes tears.
This is so true. It’s been almost 6 months since Badhon died. And she often crosses my mind even though she's not supposed to do that. The world isn’t made for the dead, it's for the ones who are still alive. And we didn’t have any memories for me to hurt like this.
But everytime, I see the stars, I wonder if she liked looking into the night sky. Everytime I smell the sea, I wonder if she ever saw the waves. Everytime I experience something, grief creeps up on me, reminding me that she probably died without all these experiences and this leaves me feeling guilty. I often find myself crying over her these days and I don’t actually accept her death, that's why I'm writing all these.
In my family, we don't talk about grief. We don't express what's hurting us. I don’t remember the last time my mother saw me crying. They can feel that something is off but they can't actually put their finger on the hidden wound.
2 days ago, I broke our code and asked my mother if baba accepted her death. My mother was cooking and talking to me. "Don't know, never asked him. Do you think people are supposed to just get over it? But it's good that she died. The world is a cruel place, and without her mother, it would have been tough for her to survive." I replied that she was my age. She didn’t even see anything yet. She was my age.
I'm turning 24 today. And she will always be stuck at 22. I find myself these days crying a lot and praying for her. Well, couldn’t get any peace while she was living, may she rest in peace now. The mortals here are in pain, Badhon. I will never express myself but that doesn’t mean I don’t pray for you. I will always keep on wondering whether I could have done more. Fuck everything, fuck it, fuck loss, fuck death.