When you know it's irrational.

 That is grief.

I know when I'm being irrational in my thoughts.

Yet I still ask, I still get mad.

I want to scream into the darkness.

I want to scream to the heavens.

I want to scream to anyone who is listening.

"What did you leave us?"

"Why didn't you fight harder?"

So very irriational.  It wasn't a choice for him to pass away.  It's nothing that could be "fought".

But damn, I still want the questions answered.

That is the irrationality of grief.




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