The cool sadness is the worst. The near lack of feelings, the emptiness. You’d think that would be preferable to a veil of tears, but no. It’s like a capped bottle that life keeps shaking. It’s bound to burst, spewing a frothy flow over everything. For now, it’s kept in.
Friends pat your back and ask if everything’s OK. Yes. And no. It’s the cool sadness that disturbs everyone. Like a painting, a locked little smile, thin lips, maintain.
Nothing tastes good. Eat, drink, walk, talk. Maintain. Everyone expects it. The banter, the smart-assed wisecracks, the one-liners.
It helps, being normal – or as normal as it gets. Function, find things to do. Don’t rush to any judgments. Not quite yet.
Give this place a chance. At least for the next few months. Talk it out. Recycle back into the world.