You can skip this Author's note if you want. (:
Well I don't know what brought this on. I've lost someone really close (I'm sure everyone has) and I actually laughed, so I figured there was some legitimacy to the saying. Or I'm just emotionally detached, either way this is the story.
I do not own the characters: Kurt or Blaine. I do not own Glee.
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"I laugh because I will cry if I don't."
The marvelous words of Hedwig Robinson have never resonated with me more than now.
I sit in our apartment; if I can even call it that anymore, and laugh. That's all I really can do.
I can't go to work: 'it's too soon, you should go home and rest,' they'd say. They'd look at me with sympathy and arrogant pity. As if they know what it's like to be me, to be where I am right now. I can't go out: 'Blaine, over here! How are you feeling? Why haven't you said anything yet?' As if flashing cameras weren't enough, yelling in my face would make it better.
All I can do is laugh.
Crying isn't an option. I don't cry. I haven't for 5 months now. When I saw it all coming to a head; and end, I closed off. I'd been through this before; sort of. There were times when I thought it would end. There were times when I hoped it would end. But then I'd wake up and see him lying there next to me and know that no matter the pain, the misery, I would go through hell and back for this man.
I always thought hell was this delusional place where demons and fire would eat at you; gnaw at your flesh and bone. All you ever feel was physical pain. But you wouldn't die. You're already dead. You might faint for a minute, get a few seconds of relief. But then you'd wake up; you always wake up, and would go through it all over again. The psychology of you would forever be ruined. There would be no end. This was you for the rest of eternity.
No. My hell was nothing like that. My hell was alone, broken, and very much alive. It's very personal though. As if whatever deity up there was angry and they wanted me to suffer. So they got a knife and shoved it into my eyeball. Every few hours they'd push a little further, all the while lacerating every inch of my body with pins; like I'm some fucking plaything.
Laughing doesn't necessarily relieve the pain. It's more so a reminder that he was here. He once laid in my arms; breathing, smiling and living.
It isn't fair. I'm sure everyone who's lost someone they adore can say that.
It isn't fair that I'm here and he isn't. I'm nothing special. I sings songs. I pretend like I can take care of people; like I can take care of myself, but in reality, I'm nothing at all without him. I'm just a vessel for someone to handle. It isn't fair that someone like me is alive and he isn't.
Kurt isn't alive.
I think it. Sometimes I say it out loud but no tears come, only laughter. I feel the pain. I always feel the pain. I feel it to the point where I'm numb. Some call it depression but I call it reality.
This is my reality. Living in this world without him. Being forced to a life of emptiness. I'm sure I'll move on and find someone whom I feel I can care for but it wouldn't be the same. It'd almost be an insult to love. Kurt was my person, my Soulmate. I would never be able to love someone that way, and I honestly don't want to.
I don't know what to do. Living seems like a foreign subject to me now; a vague lifestyle in another world all together, and I don't know how to get there.
So I laugh. I sit and I laugh.
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Review and tell me what you think, honestly. (: Thanks for reading.