I hate that I know what to do with my grief

I hate that I know exactly when my mind has latched onto a memory of someone I have lost and
won’t let me think of anything else. I hate when I have a good day or a good month and I know
those five minutes where I think of them will make me feel like their vanishing happened all
over again.
I hate that I think I should speak next time.
I hate that I think someone might ask me to.

I hate that I am in a place that is equal parts healthy and equal parts self inflicting of this pain. I
hate that I think I might not have to carry this forever. I hate that sometimes I think too hard and
I cry in silence in my bed too afraid to say anything out loud.
I hate how I can’t remember the good things but I can remember the worst.
I hate that I was a comfort to others but never to myself.
I hate the way I was told.
I hate the way I don’t look for them in our old places because those weren’t really my places and
they never will be again. I hate that grieving doesn’t end but it feels like it does, then it starts
again.

ABOUT

Yasmine Diaz is a writer from NYC who likes dabbling in both fiction and nonfiction. In her free time she likes photography, art and curating music playlists to fictional characters and her constantly changing vibe.