colour my dragonfly grey

It was yet another usual morning, waking up with no feeling of excitement. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and swung my legs over the side of the bed, I sat at the edge, unable to move. My legs felt heavy, as if the weight of my emotions was burdened in my feet. It wasn't the first time I had woken up feeling numb, but it was the first time I had felt the crushing weight of the emotions I had kept locked down for so long. I took a deep breath and held my position for a while until I was sure I could wear my mask. Then, I hurriedly rushed to the sitting room for our family's usual prayer session. Usually, after prayers, we would all go about our assigned duties, but today was different. My dad held us back for a brief discussion....It's been two months since my sister's passing, and while everyone felt the weight of the loss, we were careful not to show it. We had to be strong for each other. I had just received my university admission, which should have been a time of excitement and celebration, but it wasn't. The grief of the pain still lingered,and I couldn't shake off the feeling of emptiness. Just the thing I least wanted to be reminded of. My dad kept going on about how he knew it would be difficult for me to leave for school. My sister and I had planned to attend university together. She was already a student there, and we intended to share an apartment, but life had other plans.As my dad spoke, I felt the urge to remove my mask, the one I wore to hide my true emotions. it was suffocating me, and I struggled to keep it in place. As I struggled to keep my emotions in check. I finally felt ready to lift my head and hear the rest of what my dad had to say. Since my sister's passing, a hidden presence had been lurking in the house, aware of the unspoken words and the sorrow behind everyone's smiles, It sensed the heavy silence beneath our brief conversations, and because tomorrow was the day I would finally leave for school, this entity emerged from the shadows, prompting the family discussion. The discussion went on for hours, with everyone sharing how the loss had affected them. It felt like we were in a support group, but I couldn't find the right words to express myself, so I kept quiet, listening to what everyone had to say. But I could hardly keep up, lost in my own thoughts, that I barely noticed when my dad ended the discussion.it was as if I had time-traveled, and his final words brought me back to reality, as he reminded me for the nineteenth time to start packing my things. And then, once again, the saddening silence fell like a shroud as the room slowly emptied, leaving only my eldest sister behind, her eyes brimming with tears. My sister's tears sparked a mix of emotions within me - guilt for not being able to comfort her, frustration at my own inability to process my feelings, and a deep sadness for the loss we were all struggling to come to terms with. They say time heals all wounds, but it sure isn't helping me out. Or maybe it's still early for me to expect the healing because each day that passes feels like I'm a walking sadness. The pain feels just as raw, just as real as it did in the beginning. I'm starting to wonder if time is just a band-aid, a temporary fix that doesn't address the deeper hurt. I'm still waiting for the day when the ache in my heart starts to fade, when the memories of what I've lost no longer feel like a weight.