Sometimes I wonder if it truly gets easier.
If the days don’t fade to black so often or so harshly but to a dull grey.
Sometimes I wonder if words are necessary.
I talk too loudly and too often, so when the world is silent I am all the more appreciate.
What is easier about the passage of time after a tragedy that we have to proclaim from the depths of our hearts that “this too shall pass. It will get easier.”
And do those words mean anything more or less than just a touch on your shoulder to mean “I am here for you.”
We try to understand.
With anything that society has told us is acceptable for communication.
Without truly connecting.
And on it goes.
The words that spill out of my mouth and in to your ears, they do not get easier. They sound harsher and less forgiving than they did a year ago, but what is a years worth of time compared to the lessons we have learned together.
We say time wasted like we don’t actively wish the seconds away on the clock as minutes tick by. Too bad the time won’t pass more quickly. And it does not get easier.
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