Grief

We are supposed to run, run, run, run, run, run, run, and run.

We are not supposed to stall.

Nor confront the grief that shapes your reality.

Grief! What do we understand about it? Do we know it? Everyone must have had grief. Is there any person in the history of humanity that hasn’t faced grief? Someone whose present wasn’t shaped and mortified by the burden that they carry.

Can one find meaning in life after witnessing death? If so, is it meaning or running? Meaning of life or running away from the grief?

Special mention to the audacity of humans. A very special mention, some awards of sort if that’s possible, for trying to quantify grief. You are supposed to run, run, run, run, and run. And when grief hits you, the humans put a mark on it. You can walk even crawl when it hits you, but never stall. You crawl for sometime, crying. Then you gotta wipe your tears with your soil sodden hands and get up. Then you should start walking slowly. Then you should start jogging. Then run again. Fucking run again. If you stall or stop, you are pathetic. Grieve while you run. Fell down? Shut the fuck up. Stop whimpering. Run. Run. Run. Run. You pussy. Run.

The man is shouting. The woman is shouting. They are all shouting. I was whimpering, running along with all of them. Little did I know. I wiped my eyes and looked around. Everyone was whimpering. Everyone was wiping their eyes. But, they were shouting at others to not stop. To run and never stall. Wiping. Shouting. Wiping. Shouting.

Now, it is up to me. Would I stop? Would I shout?

Run. Run. Run. Run. You Pus-