It's like you went away and all the old demons came back to lay beside me at night and hold my hand while I walk down the street. I know it's not a simple matter of one instead of the other, but it suddenly feels like so much work got undone. Like I got to a certain place and then got cannonballed in the gut and found myself much further back then I expected, sitting in a mud puddle of shit that I thought had dried up and faded away.
Apparently one of the stages of grief is anger. I totally believe this. But trying to feel angry at someone who is dead is so fucking unbelievably hard. Trying to engage that anger and deal with it and process it feels like the last thing on a long list of Shit I Would Rather Never Have To Do Ever. But I know it will be dealt with eventually. I just wonder what will be left of my already shredded soul afterward.
I love you anyway, despite the rollercoaster I've been on.