Talk:Grief/@comment-7706473-20130903162601

DAMN.

Just so you know, it is 8:20 in the morning here, I have a cup of coffee that is blacker then hell and sweeter then a friendly demonthing, and this was absolutely terrifying. This is how you do a quick and effective pasta, gentle lurkers. Wow.

At first, I was nodding my head, thinking that the horror was going to be something to do with the loss of the love of the narrator's life, and then - and then - everything began to fall down around me and I grew paranoid. I've been told my paranoia is especially bad. Maybe it is another form of grief? I'll choose to believe that it, and decadance are... Yes.

There are so many little things that also were scary or intriguing, or just - periphereal. Lurking around the hazy edges of the water. For a minute, I wondered if the narrator saw their lost love, and if they were either lying through their teeth, insane - or if, just maybe, they had. But those brief flashes of speculation only made the real horror of Grief sink in all the better.

A single cherry blossom, for a lesson learned.