But I watched Glee last night.
I cried and cried and cried. Too many things in last night's farewell to Finn (Cory Monteith) hit a little too close to home.
*If you haven't seen the episode, you don't have to be a follower of the show to watch it. It's unbelievable and a must see. Go watch on fox.com now*
But I really wanted to participate in Jenn's link up.
Because it's something I absolutely support. However, until last night I didn't have a thing to post. Actually, until right this minute I didn't think I was going to post anything.
But last night after Glee, I just wrote. I sat down on my bed and just started typing. Seriously, I cranked this out in less than 15 minutes.
I'll be honest, I haven't re-read any of the words I wrote. I didn't edit it and I don't plan on proofreading it now. I'm sure it's full of grammatical errors. I wouldn't know for sure though, because I refuse to read it right now. I probably shouldn't be sharing this at all.
**Update: To clarify, this is fiction. It's written from a place of truth, but this isn't truth. Does that make sense? This is a story.. Mostly. **
This isn't anything I'd usually share with anyone. Not my parents, not my friends, not even anonymously. I'd just hit the save button on Microsoft Word and probably not read it again for a year like the rest of the stories I write down. So I don't know why I'm sharing this now, here, on The Best Of Intentions. Now I'm feeling all vulnerable and shit.
But here goes nothing..
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It’s almost laughable. It’d be downright funny, if it wasn’t so terribly heartbreaking.Tomorrow it will have been a year without her. The leaves still fell and the flowers still bloomed. Teenagers still worried about finals and Tony Romo still threw interceptions. All year things kept happening; life kept happening. It’s almost like nothing changed. But it did. Life keeps going on all around me, but I feel stuck - Stagnant and unmoving. Waiting for this nightmare to be over, because this has to be a dream, right? I wonder when I'll wake up. Maybe next week.The first year is full of milestones. Every special occasion is ruined, because it’s the first one without her. First Christmas without her. First Easter without her. First 4th of July without her. First birthday without her. Occasions I used to enjoy are now tainted because she’s not there. The worst is knowing she’ll never be here for of those occasions again. This is the new normal. They tell me that will get easier. Maybe next week.I miss her.That sentence feels so inadequate and yet those words hold so much weight that I don’t dare say them out loud. If I do I’m worried I’ll shatter. If I do I’m worried I’ll be admitting that she’s gone and she’s never coming back. I’m not in that place yet. Maybe next week.They tell me I should talk to someone. That holding all of these emotions inside isn’t good for me. That it isn’t healthy. I wonder if they’re right. I wonder what they’ll say? That my own life still needs living? That it’s what she would have wanted? That it’s okay to be sad, but that it’s time to move on? I’ve heard it. Somewhere deep inside, I know they’re probably right. I’m just not ready to admit it. Maybe next week.I see her sometimes.Well it’s not really her, of course. I’ll be walking down a busy street and glance up and just for a moment I’ll swear I see her. She’ll be strutting down the street with her big smile and eyes full of life, looking and smiling right at me. It’s never her, of course. The moment I glance back it’s always someone else. One day I’m sure I’ll stop seeing her. Maybe next week.I cried for her last night. Sitting on my bathroom floor, I cried for her. Or was I crying for me? I’ll never be sure. Maybe I was crying for the world. They lost someone special and most people don’t even know it. You’d think with all of the crying I’ve done the last year, I’d have run out of tears by now. Maybe next week.Tomorrow it will…
“B! What are you doing in here?”
Trevor’s voice snaps my focus.
“Nothin’” I say as I drop my pen. I can see Trevor following the movement as it lands on my notebook with a light tap.
He’s been crying. He tries to hide it and most days he’s just shy of succeeding. Today his eyes are slightly more swollen than usual. His cheeks have a slight red tint that wasn’t there yesterday, as if he’s been busy rubbing the tears away. A casual observer would assume he’s tired. Hell, he probably is. However, I know better.
“Yea, okay”, He says with a sigh. He knows better too. “Well, if you’re riding with me, I’m leaving in 10 minutes.”
“’Kay. I’ll meet you downstairs in 5... Ish.” I add a smile at the end for no reason other than because it’s Trevor. I’m satisfied when I see the corners of his mouth turn up into one of his grins. He glances back down at my notebook, the grin disappearing, before turning around and walking out the door.
I let my eyes follow him out and listen carefully for his footsteps going down the stairs. Then I pick up my pen.
Tomorrow it will have been a year without her. We’re going today to buy flowers. Flowers to place on her grave. A rock with a name and some numbers carved into it. It’s not her. I’ll never see her again. I’ll never hear her laugh, I’ll never see her roll her eyes, I’ll never hug her. Not ever again. I’m just so tired of hurting; so tired of watching everyone around me hurt. I wish I could find the strength to smile and laugh again. I wish the hurt would hurt a little less. Maybe next week.Maybe tomorrow.