(no subject)
One of the great loves of my life - whose value to me I once came to realize were things that mostly lived inside of myself - has taken his life, and Otis Redding can make me so deeply sad, and I keep thinking about who I am and who I have always been, and I get so confused by being alive. And this is the closest I have ever felt death, and it couldn't possibly hurt any worse.
I see us, and this is a true memory, on some secret beach, alone in the brisk spring wind, sitting so close to one another - I wondered if we would kiss then, and we didn't yet - and the polaroid he took of me sitting on the edge of the water letting the waves crash over me in my dress is somewhere and I don't know where that place is.
Life, whether it was right, led by logic, or justified in any real standards by which I live my life now, was magical. And it's as if it never existed at all. He no longer exists, and I feel like the strange relationship we shared hardly existed at all, or that there is no proof. I have nothing left of him and I never will again because he is dead forever.
I did not go to the funeral held by his friends today which was absent of his cremated remains. I felt like it was wrong.
I see us, and this is a true memory, on some secret beach, alone in the brisk spring wind, sitting so close to one another - I wondered if we would kiss then, and we didn't yet - and the polaroid he took of me sitting on the edge of the water letting the waves crash over me in my dress is somewhere and I don't know where that place is.
Life, whether it was right, led by logic, or justified in any real standards by which I live my life now, was magical. And it's as if it never existed at all. He no longer exists, and I feel like the strange relationship we shared hardly existed at all, or that there is no proof. I have nothing left of him and I never will again because he is dead forever.
I did not go to the funeral held by his friends today which was absent of his cremated remains. I felt like it was wrong.