You do not need fixing. There is nothing wrong with you. It is not your sorrow, as such; we no longer have the luxury of being private citizens of an entangled cosmos. Every moment you feel the churning discourse of grief, trust that everything froths in symphony with ‘your’ despair. Trust that pain is not a crisis of interiority, but a public knowing, a shared feeling. Trust that the whole world of things is creased in that moment. Trust that you are not alone.