Last night the stars were so painfully bright, I could see all these constellations previously hidden by smog and light and everything felt so pure I could have died.

Some girl called my best friend's new number today and asked for K. Or a boy named K. Whatever. She still went off on her. It wasn't the girl's fault that she had horrible timing when she dialed the wrong number. Then again, it's not our fault the bad timing even exists.

Am I making sense?

I don't know what's wrong w/me. It's been a whole year and yet it feels like just yesterday we were sitting in Denny's, trying to talk about anything but THAT. Trying to understand just how death works and comprehend that he's really gone. We were all staring at the door that day, waiting for him to walk in w/that stupid fucking grin.

"I really got you that time, huh, guys?"

Fucker.

I'm sitting here in my dark living room, hearing only the clack clack of the keyboard and the fish tank filter and I am expecting something to happen. A hand on my shoulder, a whisper in my ear, a phone call from beyond the grave. I swear he can contact me. And it's fucking killing me that the day has gone by without a single thing I can contribute to him saying hello.

Not even a dream.

This is crazy. He. Is. Dead. Gone. He's not coming back and I can't change time.

But why the footsteps at his grave? Why the letter? Why the strange coincidences? Why did I feel him hug me while I knelt at his tomb? I swear to you, he was there. And the dreams. The dreams that were the only thing calming me when all I wanted to do was smash and break and drag the razor over my skin until I disappeared.

Why have they all stopped?

Fuck, this is crazy.

I'm sorry.

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