Final Project

I won't ask your name because frankly I don't care, haha All I have to know is if you've felt grief before. [[Yes | Yes]] [[No | No]] P.S. Don't [[lie | lie]], [[trust me]], and keep an eye out for secrets hiding in the dark haha

Cool, me too! What's your favorite kind of grief?? As defined by Merriam-Webster: (text-colour:red)[[SORROW]]: implies a sense of loss or a sense of guilt and remorse. (text-colour:orange)[[GRIEF]]: implies poignant sorrow for an immediate cause. (text-colour:yellow)[[ANGUISH]]: suggests torturing grief or dread. (text-colour:green)[[WOE]]: is deep or inconsolable grief or misery. (text-colour:navy)[[REGRET]]: implies pain caused by deep disappointment, fruitless longing, or unavailing remorse. (text-colour:purple)[[I don't have one!]] (text-colour:black)[[Stop asking me that]]

Think harder! ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. . [[ Yes]]

Thanks for clicking on this option :) You're a curious one, aren't you? I'll let you in on the [[super secret story | super secret story]] I have planned

You have to answer first, though! Grief. You experienced it? [[ Yes]] [[ No]] [[I don't feel comfortable with this.]]

Grief is inescapable. It is not one thing, it isn't just death. Sure, that's like the big guy everyone thinks about first, but you can grieve loss of trust for example. Loss of control, a personal injury, divorce, marriage, financial changes. A doll. A little lost doll that you couldn't keep track of for two seconds, Libby, and now that doll is alone and grieving by itself it's loss of an owner. All because you were four and unable to pay attention for more than a couple infant minutes. So [[ Yes]] [[ No]]

Why? [[The angst potential is limitless]] [[It sounds coolest]] [[idk]]

Why? [[It encompasses everything else]] [[It sounds coolest]] [[idk]]

Why? [[Gives big Greek tragedy/sad anime vibes]] [[It sounds coolest]] [[idk]]

Why? [[Woe is me, right? sounds poetic]] [[It sounds coolest]] [[idk]]

Why? [[Had the longest definition]] [[It sounds coolest]] [[idk]]

Well decide now. [[ Yes]]

Leave, please. And let me cr (align:"<==")+(box:"=======XXXXXXXXXX===")[y]

Me, Libby. It's me, lmao. For the project? For class? I sit in the middle and make annoying comments every now and again. That Libby- Me. I'm reliable. :) Go back to the [[beginning]] now, shoo.

A fellow hurt/comfort enjoyer, eh? Have you watched yourself lose it in the mirror during a particularly hard cry? ... Do you know why I'm doing all [[this]]?

Can't fault you for that, can I? Are you deathly afraid of being judged so you need to keep up on the trends? ... Do you know why I'm doing all [[this]]?

No, you don't, do you. You never know. You never will, huh? I know you're bored, but I need someone to listen. ... Do you know why I'm doing all [[this]]?

A fan of the occult, perhaps? Or do you just like a lot of things- hyperfixate a lot? ... Do you know why I'm doing all [[this]]?

Do you journal your negative feelings and then burn the book afterwards? Have you meant to journal for months and never get around to it? ... Do you know why I'm doing all [[this]]?

Ah, yes, someone who will always choose "All of the above" if it is an option on multiple choice exams without reading the entire question or answers first. .... Do you know why I'm doing all [[this]]?

That's fair, I have mentioned it a lot so far. You like the big, bigger, biggest picture? Don't sweat the details, I guess... ... Do you know why I'm doing all [[this]]?

For this story I am going to occasionally ask you what you would do during these different, specific situations, and then explain what actually happened. It's interactive, after all. (text-colour:black)[[Please help me.]] Like any good story... Once upon a time- Once upon a time there was a little girl. A little girl in a world that was quick to hurt her. She feels feelings more than other people, they consume her. Do you: [[Push the feelings down]] [[Feel them]]

I can't see I can't hear I can't breathe I can't decide if this is a good project or not when my cat is dead, my cat has died, and my cat will die.

You're going to cause yourself a lot of physical, mental, physiological, spiritual, filial, and developmental problems, please don't. The little girl would [[Feel them]].

This is going to hurt. And is also what the little girl does. Every emotion is turned to eleven on a scale of one to ten. Numbers, numbers, too many to count, but enough to overwhelm. Cannot be happy without second guessing it, cannot comfort someone without crying for them. The only thing in the little girl's life that made her feel normal, neutral, nullified... was her [[cat]].

You know them, you've seen them. A dog is there too, and she loves it so much. The cat, though. * Is small enough to fit in her arms * Places boundaries where she cannot * Feels so soft under her uncreased palms Do you: [[Love it normally]]. [[Hurt it]]. [[Pour all of your emotions into it. Grow up with it and place too much care and love onto that little cat's shoulders. Find stability in her wise meows and slowly blinking eyes.]]

You know she cannot do that, but it would have been wiser. [[Pour all of your emotions into it. Grow up with it and place too much care and love onto that little cat's shoulders. Find stability in her wise meows and slowly blinking eyes.]]

(text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.] (text-colour:black)[Leave.]

Even when Dad leaves and looks at her with eyes she cannot recognize. Even when Mom raises her hand, her arm, her leg, her voice. Even when Sister ignores the entire world for a hint of respite. [[She loves her.]]

That little girl is loved back, loved so much in fact... She grows into a [[teenager]].

Teenagers are a lot of things. They can be rowdy, high energy, rebellious, lackadaisical. As a teenager would you: [[Forget the cat]], you have friends now. [[Find solace in her black and white fur]].

If you did that the cat would die. No one would look out for her. No one would feed her or love her. You cannot do that- She cannot do that. [[Find solace in her black and white fur]].

She does every night. She has friends now, has hobbies. Plays sports and attends rallies. A full teenage life. But only because of [[her]].

She has a name, you know. The little girl the teenager the now young adult's cat. It's [[Oreo]]. The little girl moved out of the vast three bedroom, two bathroom, has a backyard, and pantry closet house... ...into an apartment that cannot fit her precious inanimate belongings. Can it fit her cat? Do you: [[Keep stuff]]. [[Keep the cat]].

(css: "text-decoration: line-through") [I was] She was eight when she named her, can you blame a kid for naming a cat after a cookie?

You know you cannot get that stuff back, but when your cat sits on you it doesn't matter anymore. The young woman cradles her gently as a storm disguised as rain flits overhead. If only she had seen the harsh weather for what it [[was]] instead of what it appeared to be. You cannot swim if you've already drowned.

Those notebooks, those sketches, those trinkets that mean everything and nothing feel cold in your palms and you're beginning to crumble inside. Please, [[Keep the cat]].

It was a subtle neglect from her parents to her to her cat. When outside proved dangerous and she came home with a gash to her brain, the young woman cried. What is one to do? [[Grieve]]

She is in her arms but she isn't moving. Isn't meowing, isn't making the little girl trapped in a woman's body happy like she always did. Now the girl can't breathe. The girl cannot think without falling down a darkened path of regret. Her anguish is palpable, woe pouring from her pores. Sorrow lines her quickly developing wrinkles and she [[doesn't know]] where to go from here.

Do you know? [[This is a little extreme]] [[Doesn't matter if my eyes are open I can't see a thing]]

Well this isn't your story. I've given you choices up 'til now, but what are you going to do without an option to move forward from here? Hit the options, try. (text-colour:navy)[Go to therapy. Be miserable.] No, no. I've taken that away from you right now because you're being mean. If you want the story to end here that's fine. Exit out and do me a favor? Love your pet, asshole.

Neither can she, neither can she. Stuck [[stuck]] stuck StuCk stuck [[STUCK]] sTuCk

Weighed down fuck so heavy and lifeless like her cat that cat is dead did you know you can't move or think it's [[inconsequential]] when she's gone she's gone (text-colour:black)[she's gone]

It really makes the world seem [[inconsequential]] when the one thing that kept your head above water is floating off out of reach. You, she, cannot tread water by herself.

Grief is like a [[box]] with a [[ball]] and a [[button]]. When the button is hit, grief flares up and renders you speechless in pain. The ball starts out huge, grazing every wall of the box, so constantly and consistently hitting that button you call out of work, miss your classes, and forgo eating because nothing feels as bad as that repeated wave of grief. Over time. The ball becomes smaller. It doesn't hit the button as often, but the hurt never lessens when it does.

Your body, your box. What holds your bones and bags of fluids and veins of blood and flesh of life. A true testament to how [[loved]] a human can be.

The unlikely culprit across space, dimensions, and stars- Time. Cannot be beaten, cannot be forced, but moves at a pace that feels incomparable and intrusive all at once. Won't stop for anyone, but has [[loved]] all that was and all that will be.

Source of the pain, but gorgeous... because how else would you describe grief but as evidence you [[loved]] too much, too hard.

[[She]] is. She is love incarnate. The young woman, her cat. Love letters from the universe that make it all make sense at the end of their days. Her cat knows, now. She will, too. Someday.

#We All Feel It by Libby Skalisky DTC354

#We All Feel It by Libby Skalisky DTC354 Let's start at the [[beginning]], shall we?

This. This? (text-colour:red)[This] (text-colour:lime)[this] (text-colour:magenta)[THIS] (text-colour:black)[This] (text-colour:blue)[tHiS]...? I think you know, though, don't you? Here's a hint: it rhymes with "leaf" [[Chief]]? [[Thief]]? [[Grief]]? [[Beef]]? (text-colour:black)[[Motif?]]

Chief of what? Reading comprehension? I don't think so. Try again: [[Grief]]? [[Grief]]? [[Grief]]? (text-colour:black)[[Motif?]]

Ah-ha, you want to steal my show? Why even choose this option. Try again: [[Grief]]? [[Grief]]? [[Grief]]? (text-colour:black)[[Motif?]]

NOW you're getting it, silly. Grief. This story is about. Gr i effff (text-rotate-x:173)+(text-rotate-y:175)[Grief.] Mine is a specific grief[[,]] but I have no idea who you are and what you have experienced[[.]] Why would I tell you this, create an entire project about [[it]]?

I'm going to have some with you if you don't start taking this seriously. Try again: [[Grief]]? [[Grief]]? [[Grief]]? (text-colour:black)[[Motif?]]

Very ve-ry clevah. You know, I keep listening to the musical "Into the Woods" lately (the original 1987 cast of course) and there are so many good video analyses on YouTube for it. One video in particular (a video by Sideways) talks about the moral of the music, how the composer, Stephen Sondheim (ugh love him), created this thing called the "bean theme." The bean theme is a series of five notes played in the same order, but twisted around to create new songs and tunes throughout the show. Take these notes and turn them upside down- new song. Take these five and change from major to minor- new tune. Grief is the same to me, just the same. Grief is a song that may change according to who experiences it and in what way, but will always keep those core notes- because at the end of the day we all experience the feeling. Grief over loss of opportunities. Opportunities to love more, to try more, to see more, to feel more, to communicate more. To love a pet more, to try more things before you can't, to see more things before it ends, to feel more feelings and communicate them to loved ones. I just want more time and less Grief, but as is to err is to be human... to grieve is to love. May I tell you a (b4r:"none","none","solid")+(b4r-colour:orange,white,white) [[story]]?

Classic death.

I am a human being who does not know how to regulate their emotions too well. I need to talk about it, to write about it. If I do not share my experiences... did they even happen? Did yours? When you walk by someone on campus, when you teach a class, when someone emails you that they cannot attend. Do you believe them? The fact of the matter is we cannot escape the human aspect of ourselves, our brain, that wants to be known and loved and understood. Please understand me. Please believe me. May I tell you a (b4r:"none","none","solid")+(b4r-colour:orange,white,white) [[story]]?

I am sorry for your losses and for all you will lose in the future.

You may ask yourself, "Libby why didn't you add images?" [[or]] "Libby why is this project so boring to look at??" [[or]] "Libby... are you okay???" It means so much to me and so little at the same time. Look at this black background and this white text and tell me what to add. Do it- what? What? I can't hear you. It's just you and me here. Do you like [[clicking]] [[options]]? [[So]] [[many]] [[to]] [[choose]] [[from]] [[how]] [[do]] [[you]] [[pick]]? It's just you and me here.

We're almost done. This [[or]] that?