DARK THOUGHTS WONDER

 

The mind of an artist… wanders.
It gets loud sometimes and quiet at others, but it always battles.
I find myself constantly overthinking, imagining everything, both the beautiful and the bleak.
Sadly, my thoughts often lean toward the worst-case scenarios.
It’s strange how darkness has a way of creeping in, even when we crave the light.

Isn’t it something… how people barely notice you when you’re alive but will fill up a room when you’re gone?
They’ll cry, speak sweetly, and reminisce about your best qualities.
Yet the crowd is smaller on your happiest days, like your wedding.
Sometimes filled with envy, silent judgment, or obligation.
And it makes me wonder — why does sorrow unite us more than celebration?

It’s funny how we romanticize weddings so early in life… while funerals remain unspoken.
We plan weddings in our minds for years… dresses, colors, vows.
But barely think of funeral arrangements.
Even though marriage is a maybe, and death is a guarantee.

People show up for grief in ways they rarely do for joy.
We gift more, travel more, cry more, hug tighter.
Maybe because sorrow is familiar.
It humbles us.
It reminds us that life is fragile, and in that realization, we connect.

Joy is measured… like people hold it in carefully.
But pain? Pain is heavy.
It demands space, time, courage… community.
And maybe it’s not just the loss that overwhelms us, but the weight it leaves behind.
The burden is rarely for the one who passed… it rests on the shoulders of those who remain.

There’s a kind of silence that follows loss — one that echoes louder than words.
In those moments, we remember to be human.
To check in.
To say “I’m here.”
To hold each other, even if we don’t know what to say.

Still, somehow… in all that heaviness, there is love.
In showing up, in tears shared, in silence held.
What consoles us… is that we’re there for each other.
And maybe that, in itself, is a kind of light.