Retreat and Hide

I thought that once my grandmother passed away, so would I. We would both be gone. I would stand still while the earth rotates. And so I stopped. Alone. Life moves on, but I needed a moment. When I feel pressure, I retreat and hide like a soldier might in combat; or a like a gang-banger dodging bullets. I hid behind my own armored tanks and urban barricades, trying to escape the reality of loss, hopelessness, and hurt. I just didn’t realize how difficult it would be to come out of hiding.
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