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Grief is bone-crushing. I feel it in my bones because it feels as if I’m being crushed down to my bones, from the inside of my bones outwardly. My head is pounding, throbbing, and feels full. The top of my head feels like it’s got some sort of medieval torture device, a big metal ring, like a halo, hovering over my head, with screws every couple of inches drilled into it, turning tighter so that the whole thing squeezes my head, and at any moment, my head will explode.

My eyelids hurt, the backs of my eyes ache, and my heart feels heavy.

The friend died of a heart attack. And now I fear sleep, that my heart will betray me, too, and steal me away from all I love.

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