Perfectly lonely

Sometimes I cannot help wondering, is all this bubbling frustration and seething hatred toward everyone and everything is my form of bereavement. I still have not sat down and cry since last November. I refused to, still refuse to. Coz doing that means I have accepted she has passed. And screw that shit about something better will come along when you have learnt to let go. You give me a time machine or a resurrection pill then we can talk.

Not that I could if I summoned the strength to. I left for Japan 4 days after the funeral, then for Christmas caroling in Genting a week upon touchdown back here. I tried to think of it as a time-out for my mind, even as I felt guiltily elated and in peace with myself; I blame the mesmerizing weather and scenery of Gifu and the joyful company of my caroling mates. But I did feel my heart lurch painfully every time I came across these adorable plushies in Japan that only grandma and I are obsessed about; something beautiful to call ours.

Then classes started and I was busy dodging the attacking bodies of grief to get my subjects into the goals of Pass, Full Attendance and Seen Improvement. But I made up by ringing my grandpa up daily, mostly to fill up both our loneliness, occasionally just for the sake of dialing their number and seeing her name appear on my cell phone screen. Depressing, it is. I guess individuality includes manner of handling loss.

Now, it seems, the cords that have been keeping the shredded bits and pieces of my heart together are becoming undone; the quivering strings sending waves of anger and annoyance to every part of me, stirring up paranoia and unjust assumption of people mocking me behind me. I want the world to know I have lost someone I loved so much so that they have a little sympathy and stop being so damn happy all the time, then the next second I will be horrified to have that selfish thought because I understand that the sadness is mine to bear.

And so my mood flickers between extreme loathing towards people's joy and self-pity and an suppressible yearning for her and everything to be the way it was last Summer.

To make things worst, this Sunday is her birthday and I will not be around for prayers. I feel like crying already.