I’m afraid because it’s December 27th and yesterday didn’t hurt. Because I miss your voice, or what I think I remember it sounded like. I’m afraid because your birthday is no longer the most painful day of the year, and Christmas is now just a two day affair, with my parents’ anniversary following up. Even worse, I’m afraid because I don’t wait for your phone call on my birthday, or graduation day, or any day.
I’m afraid because a cold stone in the ground is all I have left of you and I even enjoy going to the cemetery, crying at your tomb and writing you a letter. It somehow feels like home.
I’m afraid that you’re so far away. Because some days I just want to visit someone else’s grave and talk to them - because my visceral pain that is eating me alive is too much to bear, so I need to put it out there, somewhere, anywhere.
I’m afraid because sometimes I worry that my best days are behind me. And I’m much too young. It terrifies me to think that the person I will marry will never get to know you, or even worse, that I’ll never get to know them because I linger and hold on.
I’m afraid you’d disapprove.
Of the boy I’m creeping around with late at night, early in the morning, but never in the warm light of sunset. Of the choices I’ve made, and the drugs I take, of that cigarette in a cold winter night. Of my lack of faith in the day to day wonders we call life.
I’m afraid I’ve given up. And I haven’t even realised this because I’ve been too busy trying to find things that make me feel alive. I’m afraid the warmth of summer will never come back because you’re gone and there’s a hole in my heart that I truly believe has damaged me forever.
I’m afraid because I don’t miss you anymore. You’re gone, it’s all gone, and so is the pain. When the wave of reminiscence hits me like a cold blade in my core; I shatter to a million pieces and I remember. I remember all the times we sat down and had a cup of tea, that once we ran away and drove around town watching the christmas lights. I remember all the hugs and all the tears.
I’ll never forget how you told me you were sorry to hear I understood what you meant, because you realised my heart had already been torn apart and broken, and I was growing up. Or how I said I’d visit you in the hospital tomorrow because I had homework, and then tomorrow was too late and you were gone. Or how I felt you there with me that night, and could almost, almost hold you again.
I’m afraid because I still can’t seem to comprehend how the world can function without you in it. Because that broken girl, hiding her tears from the world, but breaking down in dark corners, is still terrified beyond comprehension of what it is that happened.
I’m afraid of moving on because you’re not here anymore. And I know, I will always be afraid.