I find it funny - ironic even that tenderness can be an affliction or comfort depending on the context. To be tender or easily bruised, sensitive, compassionate in shared pain sometimes prolonged pain. I find it biting.
“I lost a lot of people,” I said, she said “to death”, but not just death to life.
Honestly to both, I lost friends that I was no longer useful.
I lost family, my Dad called and told me my brother's mom had passed and he was unaware of the inexplicable reasoning of sadness in my brother when he came home from school quieter than usual- just to find a week later that she was gone. In the park- I received another call saying an aunt and aunt's sister were gone. So many people have just gone.
I stopped watching the news, I couldn’t stand to hear about people dying. I became secretly romantic, I became curious about religions and philosophy. I picked up every holy book I could find, I meddled in Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity, and Islam. I looked to the stars, to the ocean, to the cloud and trees. To myself, to cigarettes (to which I let go), to live music, art, and literature. I stopped painting and started again, I became fond of words, I realized I say “I” too much, and sometimes I don’t pry because I’m afraid to hear something sad and not be able to bare it, because of this I’ve lost friends or can assume.
Friends I lost to life- I lost them to grad school, accountability, distance, and anxiety. In all honesty, I don’t even know the reasons why I lost some of my friends- the details of those losses don’t matter. I won’t beat myself up over anything. I’m tender in return, and it is a gift as much as it’s an affliction because I have a keen awareness of how delicate relationships are. I pause more I’m quieter, reserved, and observant- I wanna take it all in. I’ve lost so many people- I’ve even lost some of the people I thought I was.
Does this tenderness stand as an affliction or gift? this newfound vulnerability? It makes me want to feverishly cling to people while keeping everyone 10 feet away. The anticipation of grief has microwaved me, leaving bits of me scorching and other bits frigid.
