You’re a beautiful soul. Its okay that you come here angry some days, sad others….what you write about specifically and how you write, isn’t our concern. We’re here reading, following, loving, and supporting you because we care about you—we enjoy who you are. And we can relate in your sorrow. You’re never alone—no matter how it feels.
Thinking about you–knowing it isn’t easy. Remember that you’re dearly loved and even if it feels like you are–you’re never alone…
… and for a second I believed her. For a second. Until I realised that the link to Jericho’s website wasn’t to another blog, but to a website claiming to ‘sell property quickly’.
Ah Jericho, you minx. Beguiling me with those cunningly programmed noughts and ones. You’re the grief-blog equivalent of a sex phone operator; you know just what to say but really you want to keep me coming back, filling your pocket in the process. “Oh baby” I cry; “you’re not alone” you whisper, before you’re caught by my spam filter, our chaperone.
I know you’re not real, but I can’t help reading and re-reading. You give great comment, what can I say? I even consider borrowing a phrase or two, for when I need to put out for other bloggers but the words wont come. I think you must be a composite of some kind; filched feelings from those who’ve been kind enough to read here over the past 18 months. I wonder if the real people found it as easy to write those words as you did to steal them; I know I’ve been guilty of trotting out the same old sayings from time to time. The whorls and loops I leave behind on my keyboard are the same regardless of my intent in typing those words.
Abide. Now there’s a word I never used before.
Sending love. Smooches through the ether.
One of these: <
one of these: 3
plus enough Xs to mark a million ancient treasure maps.
Almost two years since, I find myself searching for the remnants of of my authentic grief. I’ve built cities on the ruins of my old world, and you, Jericho, would know all about that. Wikipedia says your namesake is ‘one of the oldest continuously-inhabited cities in the world’. Civilizations stacking up on top each other like chairs in a conference centre. Apparently the name Jericho derives from the Arabic word for fragrant. Fragrant like myrrh perhaps? Or is yours a seductive scent? You smell like someone who gives a fuck, but it’s just the heavy cologne of a seedy estate agent.
The weather has broken. We’ve had a week of sunshine, the freckles on my nose are testament to that. Now it’s raining and pouring, my old man is snoring on the sofa next to me as I google ‘Jericho’ one last time:
Snowflakes. What’s that truism? That they are all unique? It took John Mead Adams ten years to produce the world’s first perfect artificial snowflake. I wonder how long it took to craft the perfect artificial blog comment spambot?
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Sorry I haven’t been commenting much. I just couldn’t find real words. I didn’t want to fake it. I’m no Jericho.