It’s been almost four months since my baby mobo passed. The first three went by slowly. So much sadness. Anger. Resentment. Regrets. Nothing else mattered in the towering levels of grief. It tormented me. Seeing my baby’s final moments. I scoured the Internet forums for people in my situation. Others similar. Even those who’ve lost human babies and children.
Fast forward a few months. I’ve traveled. Made art (or tried), hiked, walked, biked, cried a ton more, video gamed, and caught up with friends. The pain is still there, throbbing in my heart, but a little more in the background on some days. Other days, the sadness is still eviscerating me and rendering me from inside out. My heart is broken. I wondered how much I could take before heartbreak takes me.
My mental health is in shambles too. Ironic cos I got moby to help my struggles in that regard. I have dark thoughts. I ponder life from a fatalist standpoint. Albert Camus is more relevant than ever. It isn’t just absurd. It is banal. Money. Dopamine. Why. Love is best enjoyed with no questions of then what. But we do know what then. After, we are all walking shells, carcasses from missing the liveliness and joys of loving. Cadavered zombies.
Moby's Stories Online 