(no subject)
Last night, Heather told us things will never be the same. I'm starting to know what she means. People suprise you sometimes.
It's still not real to me.
It's been over 36 hours. Only a little over. And it's felt like about 2 weeks. I still refuse to believe it. It's still not real. I still feel like I could wake up Sunday morning and erase these past 36 hours. Just open my eyes, with that twingy left over feeling of a nightmare, and thank God that I still have her.
Sunday was the worst day of my life. And to me, that's an honest to God statement.
Monday and Tuesday are coming in at a close second. And the week is only getting longer.
I just wrote an anthology of our friendship during seventh grade.
But for some reason I can't post it now. I need to finish it.
I'm sitting about four feet and an insulated wall away from a memorial we made today.
And as much as I love it, as much as I love the idea of it in a time like this and I love all of the pictures on it, it's so hard to look at.
Today was the Day of the Dead, Dia de los Muertos in Mexican culture. The one day a year spirits get to come back and visit friends and family and have a little play day. Our memorial serves as the alter we made for her.
It's supposed to be a big celebration.
But I can't stop crying.
And I just hope she gets to come back. And she sees it. And she sees how much we love her. Even after what she's done, we love her. And it's taken so much to realize how unconditional some kinds of love can be.
It's still not real to me.
It's been over 36 hours. Only a little over. And it's felt like about 2 weeks. I still refuse to believe it. It's still not real. I still feel like I could wake up Sunday morning and erase these past 36 hours. Just open my eyes, with that twingy left over feeling of a nightmare, and thank God that I still have her.
Sunday was the worst day of my life. And to me, that's an honest to God statement.
Monday and Tuesday are coming in at a close second. And the week is only getting longer.
I just wrote an anthology of our friendship during seventh grade.
But for some reason I can't post it now. I need to finish it.
I'm sitting about four feet and an insulated wall away from a memorial we made today.
And as much as I love it, as much as I love the idea of it in a time like this and I love all of the pictures on it, it's so hard to look at.
Today was the Day of the Dead, Dia de los Muertos in Mexican culture. The one day a year spirits get to come back and visit friends and family and have a little play day. Our memorial serves as the alter we made for her.
It's supposed to be a big celebration.
But I can't stop crying.
And I just hope she gets to come back. And she sees it. And she sees how much we love her. Even after what she's done, we love her. And it's taken so much to realize how unconditional some kinds of love can be.