0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
The distant terrains of grief are walled by colossal dark rocks, surrounded by sharp seas and confining sentiments. Though the seasons shift and years drift by, this barren landscape remains untouched—unmoved, unchanged, unaffected. It becomes a solid, solitary ground for its unprepared visitor, standing firm in the ever-changing tides of life. Once you enter the topographies of grief, it rarely allows you to return unchanged. Your sorrow, pain, and searing agony becomes the only 'self' that remains, the constant companion in an unfamiliar world.
A small surviving fragment—the sole link between the past and the present—swells to fill the space, keeping the remnants of the 'old' self afloat. To function in the world, you must leave no space for seas and rocks—there is no place for them here, and no map to guide you through this unknown, perilous territory.
1/2 🧵 17 replies
12 recasts
35 reactions
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
2 replies
0 recast
0 reaction
2 replies
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
2 replies
0 recast
0 reaction
2 replies
0 recast
0 reaction
3 replies
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
