I couldn't stop crying and now my neck hurts so I can't forget that I couldn't stop crying.
Everything. Every little fucking thing tonight made me want to sob until my chest split open. I came close a few times. I wanted to tell my dad to watch out in case my heart blew up and caused damage to the furniture.
I know why, of course. This wasn't some out of the blue, angry, depressive, nonsensical episode. This was pure and clear as the day he died. Fucking jerk.
Tee told me to be careful tonight cuz we were both shaking when we talked about him and she had freaked out the night before. When I said I hadn't cried yet, she said "be careful." So I was. For awhile. I thought, let's listen to a song that will make you shed a few tears and that will be that. You can go to the graveyard later, throw a few acorns and be in bed by eleven. My ass.
I'm sitting here, sick to my stomach, pain in my neck, pain in my heart, and I'm so fucking scared to go to sleep. It's not because I'm worried I'll dream about him and wake up in the morning thinking I can give him a call to shoot the shit. No. I'm worried that tomorrow will be worse. Cuz tonight is not just about him. It's me and fear and anger and hands that just won't stay still. I couldn't even go to the graveyard because I was scared that I couldn't handle it. Tee had said the exact same thing earlier and I said OK, I can understand that. I think I can go, though. How fucking wrong I was. I can't even look at his name that he wrote on my wall without thinking....
(thinking causes bleeding so just shut the fuck up and keep it inside)
I can't lose control now. I just got control. I'm not about to give it up because of a few shitty days(?). In the letter I wrote K last night, I told him how I had gotten his day tattooed on my wrist. I said that I would sometimes think about the placement and how if I ever tried to slit my wrists, I would see it there and be reminded of how fucking stupid that shit is. So how come I found myself thinking "I don't want to do this anymore?" How come the thought of living while people are dying fills me with this weird hybrid of disgust and despair? I don't know. I'm not like that, though. I am better and above all that. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.
Goddamnit. This sucks. I shouldn't be writing about this. I'm tired and my eyes are sore and I should just let sleep come.
You have no idea how much I miss you, K. I couldn't put it in words last night and I sure as hell can't do it now.
No tears wasted
Yeah, yeah, yeah. We're watching a kitten for the night. Some waste of sperm and eggs dumped him in the parking lot of my mom's office. To make up for the above ramble, here are some pictures of a kitten.
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