Sorry Business Static

There’s a kind of blur that comes with loss. Not the gentle kind, the soft in the fading of a sunset becomes harsh, this here is the static, the distortion, the way grief bends the light so you can’t tell where the edges are anymore. Love, loss, life, they all start bleeding into each other, and you’re left wading through it, trying to make sense of what still holds.

Water knows this feeling. The way she rises in times of loss, distorts what’s underneath, carries voices, memories, echoes of hands you used to hold. She doesn’t let you pretend but pulls you in tighter, demands that you feel every bit, no shortcuts, no sidesteps, no clean breaks.

There’s movement in the blur though. The lines don’t vanish, they just shift. You have to learn to see through them differently, to trust the feeling more than the form. To hold the weight of grief and love at the same time, without letting either drown you.

Bravery is not just about feeling it. It’s about staying in it long enough to find your way through. Because water doesn’t just take, she also carries. And if you let her, if you stop fighting the current, she'll show you the way forward. Not out, not away, but through.