Life
Life is just cold. It just carries on, just goes on no matter what happens. Whether I particularly want it to or not, it just does and it really frustrates me because it's like a death doesn't matter. It should matter more, I mean I still feel like shit over his death. But it's almost like I should be done mourning already. At some point in history, somebody must have decided that there was a globally acceptable time frame for mourning, and now I'm expected to move on with the rest of the world according to this schedule. It hasn't even been a month yet, and life seems to be carrying on as before... Like nothing happened. It's horrible but it almost seems like it was all just a fad and people are done with it now. People are moving on...
Horrible things keep happening and yet life just keeps going on. Why? Why must my life go on when his can't anymore? It feels so wrong to be here. Doing things... Making plans... Living...
I know I should move on. I should just bear with it. That's the standard process. But I don't exactly want to... I shouldn't even have to! The mere fact that I have to feels like rubbing salt all over my wound. How could I move on knowing he was murdered? All of a sudden, everything was just ended, so unceremoniously, so brutally over for him. Now I feel like I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time all the time, like I was misplaced. He was a constant in my life. I always knew he was just a phonecall away. For no reason that constant was ripped away from me. That comfort of knowing he's somewhere living his life as I lived mine is now gone and somehow I should just carry on. And I find it so hard to. I can't just swallow the pill and get on with it. It hurts to wake up and realize that he's really gone after I've been dreaming of trying to revive him and succeeding in getting him back night after night.
I know that rejecting this won't change a thing. He'd still be dead. He would still be murdered. He's gone and I know it. But I don't want to leave him behind. Here. At this point. It feels like he's been stranded at this point in our lives and I really really don't want him to. But he is.
There's no tomorrow for him anymore... And for what? That's what upsets me the most. The pointlessness of it.
Horrible things keep happening and yet life just keeps going on. Why? Why must my life go on when his can't anymore? It feels so wrong to be here. Doing things... Making plans... Living...
I know I should move on. I should just bear with it. That's the standard process. But I don't exactly want to... I shouldn't even have to! The mere fact that I have to feels like rubbing salt all over my wound. How could I move on knowing he was murdered? All of a sudden, everything was just ended, so unceremoniously, so brutally over for him. Now I feel like I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time all the time, like I was misplaced. He was a constant in my life. I always knew he was just a phonecall away. For no reason that constant was ripped away from me. That comfort of knowing he's somewhere living his life as I lived mine is now gone and somehow I should just carry on. And I find it so hard to. I can't just swallow the pill and get on with it. It hurts to wake up and realize that he's really gone after I've been dreaming of trying to revive him and succeeding in getting him back night after night.
I know that rejecting this won't change a thing. He'd still be dead. He would still be murdered. He's gone and I know it. But I don't want to leave him behind. Here. At this point. It feels like he's been stranded at this point in our lives and I really really don't want him to. But he is.
There's no tomorrow for him anymore... And for what? That's what upsets me the most. The pointlessness of it.