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𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙨: 𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 101

[𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚, 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙚. 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮. 𝙄 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣, 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙮𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙖 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨?]

Describe Grief: Grief is the natural emotional response to a significant loss, such as the death of a loved one, a divorce, or another major loss. That's such a silly word. Grief G R I E F Why is it spelled that way? I grieve the fact that I can't spell grief. -Smoke

Month three, June 3rd, what time is it? I couldn't tell you..I was always bad at telling time, especially now that it's so dark down here that it could be four in the morning, nine at night, or, hell, even twelve in the afternoon.

It was a struggle at first, fighting against the pressure I threw myself into, my pockets full of my intentions, yet my heart unsure because maybe she'd come back, like a dog waiting for its master to come, obedient until time breaks it, showing that no matter how much trust, love, care, and loyalty you put in man it'll leave you at the first chance given.

Have you ever asked yourself, If I died, would anybody care? You think it'd show you your true friends, right? Don't bother, I'm sitting here bloated with orange puss blood and my blistering organs ready to pop.

My clothes barely fit, and my body is deteriorating due to the water that, when moved, makes my ebony skin slide almost right off the bone.

But she's not here yet. I knew she wouldn't be, and the water won't be gone until next spring.

I'm deep. I had rocks in my pocket to make sure I didn't float back up again. My mama always said she didn't want to have to bury her baby; this way, she won't have to.

Oh god, if I could throw up, I would. Despite the water in my nose, I can still smell the stench that radiates from me that's making the pool green.

Eventually, when I burst like an upsetting pinata, it will turn the pool red and make the smell of my rot even stronger. Actually, they'll definitely find me before next spring with the hot Alabama weather, making me bubble like I'm in a pot.

"I need to find my cat, I'll be back before sunrise."

A poorly disguised lie, dressed in a stretched truth; with a sweet smile to match and a dismissive wave of a hand, out I walk through the door.

I close it with a small sigh and lean against it for a moment.

My beloved pet isn't the only thing I'm looking for, and a few of my new housemates already know, but I trust in them not to tell a soul where I know I'll end up.

I need to look for him.

In my absence, I watched him from afar, but recently he had disappeared without a trace, and my heart is leading me back to a place I hate.

Why do I keep finding myself here?

Back in this run-down little city, this abandoned little town, this empty little neighborhood, walking down this silent little street.