PTSD

I reacted to death like I reacted to other forms of PTSD - terribly. I put it in the back burner of my thought and let it resurface at the most unlikely times. I don't know if there's anyone, anyone at all, who are good in dealing with death - or experienced in that field.

Human sometimes think that they are godlike, but in the face of an almost minutiae virus, we bend and break. In time like this, when sorrow felt by so many of us it feels like clouds hanging over our head, death become statistic and we hummed hoping that it won't happened to us. But it will. All living thing will die, and the living will mourn the dead terribly, because coping is not something that is taught nor experienced, the pain will just rip you apart until you don't feel anymore. Everytime. Everytime. 

This morning, somehow discussion on my twitter account brought me to my teenage crush River Phoenix and I spent my morning browsing through the news about his death. Reading about how Joaquin - his brother - recalled albeit very little about how River's death affects him. I found out that his sister Rain made an album with Michael Stipe. The album called "River". Listening to Michael Stipe crying out about fame that killed River in E-Bow The Letter. I went through all of it while crying, crying about death, about the fragility of human's life, felt an emptiness in my heart. I asked my husband if I crushed an ant or two, would the relative of those ants cried too, would it made me a murderer. What made a human human, what made a human stop being a human after their death? 

I wear my own crown and sadness and sorrow 

And who'd have thought tomorrow could be so strange? 

My loss, 

And here we go again...

E-Bow The Letter, R.E.M.