I feel hollow. I already know there’s nothing insightful or deep to say to something like this. I already know that the void grief leaves is so vast and empty there are no incantations you can fling down into the pit that will begin to fill it. “I’m sorry,” I say, because there is nothing good enough, so I might as well say that. There were so many times I wished people would say something that simple, that easy to me. That instead of trying to make me feel better they could just say sorry. That instead of telling me I could try again, that there was probably a reason it had happened, they
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