Wrongness of Reunion
I get a sick feeling in my stomach now when I watch things about friends getting back together after years of separation. I get all twisted up inside when I realize it will never, ever be that way again. Even when as many people as I care about are gathered as possible, it will never be quite right.
I worry about the wedding. I worry that I'll look around and come to realize that she's really, really, really not going to be there and not be able to make it through the ceremony.
As a rule, I've been pretty private with my grief. Honestly, I don't need other people knowing I'm grieving to feel it, and when I bring her up with people who knew her, all of the sudden I take on the mantle of comforter if they need it and bury my own shit down. People who didn't know her can't possibly understand, which sounds childish, but literally no one in the world other than me is in my head, so fuck understanding. I don't need to be understood. I just want to tell Jessica stories sometimes.
I loaned her The Callahan Chronicles once, before I really knew what that would mean. Nine months later, I found it on her bookshelf and took it home, despite the fact that she hadn't read it.
I miss her so fucking much. When I get tired of not-crying, I let myself do it for just long enough to get a headache, and then I stop, not because I'm done, but because I'm pretty sure I'll never be done.
I figure those of you that are still left on LJ won't begrudge me grieving in semi-public.
I worry about the wedding. I worry that I'll look around and come to realize that she's really, really, really not going to be there and not be able to make it through the ceremony.
As a rule, I've been pretty private with my grief. Honestly, I don't need other people knowing I'm grieving to feel it, and when I bring her up with people who knew her, all of the sudden I take on the mantle of comforter if they need it and bury my own shit down. People who didn't know her can't possibly understand, which sounds childish, but literally no one in the world other than me is in my head, so fuck understanding. I don't need to be understood. I just want to tell Jessica stories sometimes.
I loaned her The Callahan Chronicles once, before I really knew what that would mean. Nine months later, I found it on her bookshelf and took it home, despite the fact that she hadn't read it.
I miss her so fucking much. When I get tired of not-crying, I let myself do it for just long enough to get a headache, and then I stop, not because I'm done, but because I'm pretty sure I'll never be done.
I figure those of you that are still left on LJ won't begrudge me grieving in semi-public.