No one ever told me how sorrow traumatizes your heart, making you think it will never beat exactly the same way again. No one ever told me how grief feels like a wet sock in my mouth. One I’m forced to breathe through, thinking that with each breath I’ll come up short and suffocate.
Maybe I could use a little metal on the inside, I thought. If I'd kept my heart better armored, where would I be now?
Easy - I’d be at home, medicating myself into a monotone. Drowning my sorrows in video games. Working shifts at Smart Aid. Dying inside, day by day, from regret.
What they have been teaching us is wrong. Yes, we do have control over our choices. Why? Because life gave us the freedom to choose. The only downside to this freedom are the insatiable consequences we shall have to face because of the choices we learned to embrace.
Sorrow is humbling. I want my pain to be fabulous. I don't need my pain to be worse than anyone else's; I just want it to be strangely, uniquely mine. Art to someone else's breakdown.
- Thea Hillman, "Dear Kath After"
from the anthology Pills, Thrills, Chills, and Heartache