For A Girl

Sadness is a bitch. It comes from nowhere only to take you down at the knees. I am sitting in mine while holding someone else’s. 

I want to comfort — I have no words.

I want to tell her it will be alright — I can not lie.

I want to grieve — It’s not my loss.

So I sit, and I wait, and I wait, for this feeling to pass, for the sensation to return to my fingers. For my eyes to stop burning and my heart to stop aching and my breath to return to my body.

Because I feel this loss like it is my own, but I too have lost what she has. And the pain still walks with me because I chose not to let go — because I fear that letting go means not remembering. And I don’t ever want to forget.

I am sorry. 

I am so fucking sorry and so fucking mad and confused and lost and overwhelmed with feelings that shouldn’t be mine, but all are coming forth from my body like a rushing tide, unable to be controlled. 

But I don’t want to control this even if I could. I want to ride this ride… to find out where I will be carried in hopes that I can bring that hope and wisdom back to the girl whose grief this really belongs to.