New blog hugs and continued misery
Comments. I love them. Especially the ones that don’t make me cry or shake me up completely when they either accuse me of being in a cult or offer up suggestions for me to be less of an asshole and to practice the life of an aesthetic.
Since I last wrote, things got even worse with more shitty, horrible fucking news. I’m treating it all with acceptance for what it is. This is the time where I’m really sitting in the fire. As much as I project onto this situation as to how I’d like things to be. As much as I’d like to wave a healing wand, I don’t have one. The only thing I can change is how I react to everything. How I carry this news. Examining my tendencies. Seeing the rough patches. Sitting with tears and fears (Admit you know have one of their songs in your head).
I used to think I knew suffering well. I had developed the taste of it when I was quite young and watched it morph over time. Light dramas. Huge blowouts. Every gradient of misery. I thought I’d seen it all. It’s subtle to see the different shades of suffering. Perhaps with age, loss takes on a different flavour on the tongue. Pain has a mild aftertaste of knowing. Tears become less salty maybe? Maybe time makes things suffering easier to carry?