I finally feel alive again.
Not just because I got some meat in my stomach. It's more than that. I feel like I have to find a whole new direction to go in. Like that this whole bounty-hunting thing isn't just something to tide me over until what? I haven't a clue. I don't think I had a clue back then either. But it isn't just something to fall back on. It's in the foreground now. It's something I want to do. Something I'm good at (although my stomach growls a counter-attack).
And another thing.
The colour seemed to have drained from everything. I wondered when I woke up where it all went. It seems now I know.
It's gone into her. Into them.
She amuses me somehow. Different from before. Jet's always been good for me. But her. I was never entirely sure about her. I'm still not sure about her, I guess. She's gotten me into some messy shit. But she's done some good work, too.
I suppose it's grief that's doing this to me. Making me enjoy their company so much more than before. Before it was like there was somewhere else I'd rather be. But there's nowhere else to go now. Nowhere else to be.
It's my fault you're gone. I know it's my fault. I shouldn't have let you come with me. I knew I was being tracked. I shouldn't have gotten you involved. I'm such a selfish bastard. I didn't want to let you out of my sight again. I was afraid I'd lose you again.
I read somewhere once that ghosts haunt their murderers.
Haunt me.
I know I don't believe in stuff like that but even if it meant I'd become demented I'd want to have you back in my life in some sort of form. Any form at all. I don't care. I'd gladly become one of those homeless people you see in alleys pushing shopping carts talking to themselves if it meant I thought I was talking to you.
I suppose it's happening already. I'm talking to you now, aren't I?
At night I dream that you're drowning me. I wake up clammy, sticking to the sheets, my body thinking its betraying me. You're drowning me and you hate me. You want me to die with you.
My body doesn't know I'd welcome the water to flood my lungs. I'd gladly have you hate me. As long as it meant you were still inside of me somewhere.
Fuck, I miss you.