Things seem to be back to normal.
Seem.
It's like when you hear your favourite song and you know it's been sped up or slowed down a touch. All the elements you enjoy are still there but you don't feel the same way about it. You need it to be the way you're familiar with.
I had learned to live without you but I was comforted with the knowledge that you were somewhere. Where are you now?
Julia.
I want to die.
God or whoever has a pretty twisted sense of humour. He wants me to do it myself. He won't let me die the way I want to. He's keeping me here without you on purpose because I was such a terrible example of human life. He's punishing me.
You were so beautiful. Your hands. Your hair. Your heart-shaped mouth.
Beautiful.
Last night I thought about clipping at the stitches across my belly and letting everything inside out. I thought about lying there and bleeding to death in an incredible rush like I was plummeting from the top of a high building.
She lay across the other couch. She looks like you when she sleeps. I think all women might look the same when they're sleeping. I thought about pulling her up against my chest, laying her out the way you used to lie with me. Your head on my chest and your fingers weaved into mine. Pale and paler flesh. She would become you when my eyes closed.
I would pretend you'd never left.
I would never open my eyes again.
Seem.
It's like when you hear your favourite song and you know it's been sped up or slowed down a touch. All the elements you enjoy are still there but you don't feel the same way about it. You need it to be the way you're familiar with.
I had learned to live without you but I was comforted with the knowledge that you were somewhere. Where are you now?
Julia.
I want to die.
God or whoever has a pretty twisted sense of humour. He wants me to do it myself. He won't let me die the way I want to. He's keeping me here without you on purpose because I was such a terrible example of human life. He's punishing me.
You were so beautiful. Your hands. Your hair. Your heart-shaped mouth.
Beautiful.
Last night I thought about clipping at the stitches across my belly and letting everything inside out. I thought about lying there and bleeding to death in an incredible rush like I was plummeting from the top of a high building.
She lay across the other couch. She looks like you when she sleeps. I think all women might look the same when they're sleeping. I thought about pulling her up against my chest, laying her out the way you used to lie with me. Your head on my chest and your fingers weaved into mine. Pale and paler flesh. She would become you when my eyes closed.
I would pretend you'd never left.
I would never open my eyes again.