Life is weird like that (NSFW)

As the brief trip with my guy passed, my grief deepened. This didn’t mean I became unhappier. Grief doesn’t necessarily make you glum in the traditional sense, or at least it didn’t me. Rather, it consumes your conscious thoughts with memories of the person you’ve lost, and how life will now be without them. It is ever-present, yet it seems to settle on a separate track to your daily conscious thoughts and deeds. I could still feel joy, envy, or ennui within it. I just happened to be grieving and eating, grieving and celebrating a birthday, grieving and paying the gas bill. Grief didn’t stop me from wanting to have a good time, to see shows, to plunder cocktail bars, nor to exert my body in aerobic yoga classes and my boxing gym (in actual fact, the endorphin rush from exercise sent me on a fitness bender). And it didn’t stop me wanting to fuck. [link]

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