When Is Enough Enough?

I have been a funk.  But  you'd never know it.  I have put on a smile.  I have put on a brave face.  I think part of it is because I don't feel like I have the right to be so grief stricken and part of it is the way some people are treating me like I don't have a right.  She wasn't my family.  She wasn't a blood relative.  She was just a friend.  Why can't I just get over it?

Just a friend.  Whatever.  Get over it.  Whatever.

I have been trying to keep busy to keep my mind from going there.  I'm running out of things.  Every time I turn around, there is something that reminds me of her.  That is how saturated our friendship was.  I found a counted cross stitch pattern I was planning to do for her for Christmas, and I sobbed uncontrollably.  I can't take a breath without thinking of her in a thousand little ways.

The question I'm most often asked is "Are you alright?"

The answer is "no".

But I don't feel like I'm allowed to say that, you know?  But the truth is, I'm not alright.  I'm the farthest thing from alright that can be.  Is my pain the deepest?  No.  Not by a long shot.  Is my pain less essential?  No, not by a long shot either.

I'm in that weird nether land.  Everyone expects her sibling, her parents, her spouse to be destroyed. But with me, everyone kind of looks at me like, "So......you were just her friend."

Just her friend.  Whatever.

That just a friend was my sister.  My family.  And she is just suddenly gone.  Like, what the fuck just happened, gone.  I still haven't fully processed this.  Yet, I'm expected to just be "over it" by now.  I mean, it's been nearly 2 weeks, why aren't I over it?  Why are my mopey posts on FB continuing?

BECAUSE I'M STILL SAD.

And I'm allowed to be sad.  Period.