Another year older
A year has gone by since it happened. I don't know why I'm writing this to be honest. But once again I'm hoping for catharsis.
Grief is weird, isn't it? All other emotions act as baggage or excess. It accentuates an aspect of you. Grief is the only thing that can ever take everything away from you. And it does. It takes away who you are. It removes something you've celebrated for a part of your life.
Josh wasn't everything to me. But he had been once.
He was my first kiss. My first boyfriend. My first true love. And, yeah, a few other firsts...
Yeah, I've loved others since. But that doesn't take away that I loved him.
Grief does.
Because what does it matter, in the grand scheme of things, how much I loved him? Or how much he loved me?
Wow, I'm being philosophical. Or morbid. Isn't it the same?
It's just I used to always know he would be here. And now he's not. And the rest of those lot are at uni. I'm at least a hundred miles away fromt he place I called 'home' for three years and people keep turning their back on me in favour of better options.
I don't think I've ever felt so bloody alone in my life.
Maybe it's ust because my recovery doesn't seem to be quite as miraculous as I want it to be. Or maybe I've been listening to too much My Chemical Romance drifting from my sister's open bedroom door.
If you've read this, you're a fool, and hopefully not too depressed now. I'm not usually this morbid. But we all have off days where we ponder 'what the fuck does it all mean?' and 'who the fuck decided it should be that way?' Because I want to meet the bastard and break his teeth in true Lancastrian style.
That is all.
Blessings of the Spasalisk with you all.
Grief is weird, isn't it? All other emotions act as baggage or excess. It accentuates an aspect of you. Grief is the only thing that can ever take everything away from you. And it does. It takes away who you are. It removes something you've celebrated for a part of your life.
Josh wasn't everything to me. But he had been once.
He was my first kiss. My first boyfriend. My first true love. And, yeah, a few other firsts...
Yeah, I've loved others since. But that doesn't take away that I loved him.
Grief does.
Because what does it matter, in the grand scheme of things, how much I loved him? Or how much he loved me?
Wow, I'm being philosophical. Or morbid. Isn't it the same?
It's just I used to always know he would be here. And now he's not. And the rest of those lot are at uni. I'm at least a hundred miles away fromt he place I called 'home' for three years and people keep turning their back on me in favour of better options.
I don't think I've ever felt so bloody alone in my life.
Maybe it's ust because my recovery doesn't seem to be quite as miraculous as I want it to be. Or maybe I've been listening to too much My Chemical Romance drifting from my sister's open bedroom door.
If you've read this, you're a fool, and hopefully not too depressed now. I'm not usually this morbid. But we all have off days where we ponder 'what the fuck does it all mean?' and 'who the fuck decided it should be that way?' Because I want to meet the bastard and break his teeth in true Lancastrian style.
That is all.
Blessings of the Spasalisk with you all.