041 - a past.
And I often think back to the day we were laying on the grass looking at the stars and he turned to me and asked me, "is there anything you regret?" God, it's funny how much fucking detail I can remember from that moment, like the exact way his hair looked and the exact way he was laying. It was so long ago. Oh God.
Oh my fucking God. Life has changed so much since then. I have changed so much.
I miss Iris. I miss her terribly. I never told anyone about how I went to that funeral home she and I used to always go to, and I sat through the service of a dead stranger, and I sobbed as if it had been Iris in that casket. I never told anyone about the man who talked to me that day, after the service, how he asked me how I knew the person who had died, and I admitted that I didn't. It's funny, I told him everything. He offered to give me a ride home or call my parents to come pick me up to make sure I was OK. Of course I said no to both, and he gave me a hug. God. I have never admitted any of that to anyone or to any journal or anything, because I was so embarrassed about going to that funeral home, and how loudly I was crying and just, everything.
Fuck.
I don't know why that comes to my mind now. It's just, the past. I wonder how life would be different if Iris were still alive. Fuck fuck fuck. Why do people around me always die or kill themselves or disappear from my life in some other way?
There are just certain things I've learned to live without.
Oh my fucking God. Life has changed so much since then. I have changed so much.
I miss Iris. I miss her terribly. I never told anyone about how I went to that funeral home she and I used to always go to, and I sat through the service of a dead stranger, and I sobbed as if it had been Iris in that casket. I never told anyone about the man who talked to me that day, after the service, how he asked me how I knew the person who had died, and I admitted that I didn't. It's funny, I told him everything. He offered to give me a ride home or call my parents to come pick me up to make sure I was OK. Of course I said no to both, and he gave me a hug. God. I have never admitted any of that to anyone or to any journal or anything, because I was so embarrassed about going to that funeral home, and how loudly I was crying and just, everything.
Fuck.
I don't know why that comes to my mind now. It's just, the past. I wonder how life would be different if Iris were still alive. Fuck fuck fuck. Why do people around me always die or kill themselves or disappear from my life in some other way?
There are just certain things I've learned to live without.