from oct 2
sometimes i miss him so much i feel like my body is grabbing at the air, clawing at high dark mud walls of a deep well, ripping at the fabric of the exterior world, trying to tear it down, trying to get to him, trying to see, trying to hear him.
today i was trying to find a file with music in it and i accidently opened a file with his pictures in it. i was utterly shocked to find them there. i forgot they even existed. the pictures were very recent, within a year of his death, and yet they didn’t look like him to me. he looked internally sick and distant and detached, forcing himself to try to look happy in a picture, trying to make himself keep going in life. maybe i’ projecting.
sometimes when i think of him i think of only a piece of him. like his arm. and how i would jump into bed with him and wrap both my arms around one of his arms and push my cheeck against it, snuggling into it like i would a teddy bear.
i had an idea. maybe i can write letters to him and send them somewhere, so i can pretend they are going somewhere and i am talking with him. the thing is, it’s hard for me to find time where i can let all my thoughts go and i can think, let alone write. it’s hard because i know if i really let myself think of things, it’s not just going to take 5 minutes, it’s going to be an entire day or lots of days. so most of the time, i try to just do things, so i dont think.
