Dear best friend, dear second self,
when i wake up in the morning, i only think ‘oh no, not again’. my eyes won’t open and so i remember last night’s tears and your emptiness.
the calendar says it’s almost been 80 days since you left us behind, and i’m not sure whether that means already or only.
my inside voice has grown quieter, a mere whisper. i cannot for the life of me remember how my internal chatter would keep me up at night, how i spent nights listening to broken records of his voice and his face when I told him I had to leave.
we all say you were as good as they come. genuine, we say. fought injustice, fought ugliness, even in herself, we say. loved all living beings, even mosquitos, we say. it sounds like the lie all those left behind tell about the one who got away, but not for us. for us it’s true.
i now do things “that keep me busy”. before all this I didn’t need to be kept busy. I’d waste time and my biggest toe would draw the outlines of the most beautiful paintings in the air for hours on end.
hallways and conversations have become emptier than they were last year, I think. I say I think, because I’m not quite sure. I have noticed that I usually am not the one who sees the leaves on trees clearly. not anymore.
when we say, it keeps coming, we don’t mean that we feel trapped in it all. it means that i sometimes forget how you were right next to me not too long ago. that i sometimes forget how that has changed now. that i wish my ‘i love you’s’ could reach you now, in the best of universes.
you know, we could have survived broken noses. we could have survived losing a leg. we could have survived so many things.
i need a lot of light and a savior. what if there is no god to catch me, t? i need you to show me the way and i need to hear you say that we’ll be okay.
prguitarman
jacobvanloon
izzy806
origamiaround
titsay
jbbartram-illu
ellievsbear
annaxmalina
romaincrisis
