Disclaimer: Don't own any of the mentioned characters. This story will
never be rewritten or explained. It's the result of a whole lot of grief
on my part.
Gone
He's not there. No matter how far I reach out in my mind, I can't find him. He's gone.
He's dead.
I look inside myself and find nothing.
Emptiness.
It wasn't something I understood. I always fought things head-on, beating them down or reasoning them out.
But how could I reason with the disease that took him from me?
It's not something that training or a good weapon can fix. It can sneak up on you like a ghost and take away life with no warning.
What could I do?
And then he was gone.
What do you do when half of your soul is gone?
What do you do when life seems flat and gray?
How do you go on?
I don't know. I really wish I could tell you.
I wish I could tell myself.
I'm so lost. Where does one look to heal one's spirit?
There's a pain inside me, one that I don't think will ever heal.
I used to have nightmares about it, but it's not something you ever think will actually happen. Then it does, and your mind refuses to process it.
He's not dead.
But he is.
I've felt rather manic since I felt him die. People wonder at my weird moods. Then I have to remind myself not to cry.
Sometimes it hits me so hard that I can't breathe. I want to curl up and block everything out until I can feel him in my soul again. But I still feel empty.
All my internal organs have shriveled up, leaving me hollow.
I really don't know how to go on. I know what he wants, but he can't do anything about it now. It's me who hurts. I've decided to be very selfish about this. I'm in pain, and I want him back.
Pain seems to be a way of life.
That doesn't make it any easier.
They say the complications are what make life worth living.
Who the hell are "they", anyway?
They can take my pain and try to say it again.
I think I've run out of steam. It's hard to stay excited about things now. Even in anger and sorrow and pain.
I'm still trying to find something. And I'm not sure what.
I lose myself back in sleep. Sleeping is easier. Sleep doesn't hurt.
But then I wake up, and realize that he's gone all over again, and I can barely make myself get out of bed.
I was crossing the street today, and I thought maybe everything would be better if one of those cars just didn't stop. I can't even seem to get mad at myself.
I'm empty.
Hollow.
Alone.
Nathan, why did you go?
Gone
He's not there. No matter how far I reach out in my mind, I can't find him. He's gone.
He's dead.
I look inside myself and find nothing.
Emptiness.
It wasn't something I understood. I always fought things head-on, beating them down or reasoning them out.
But how could I reason with the disease that took him from me?
It's not something that training or a good weapon can fix. It can sneak up on you like a ghost and take away life with no warning.
What could I do?
And then he was gone.
What do you do when half of your soul is gone?
What do you do when life seems flat and gray?
How do you go on?
I don't know. I really wish I could tell you.
I wish I could tell myself.
I'm so lost. Where does one look to heal one's spirit?
There's a pain inside me, one that I don't think will ever heal.
I used to have nightmares about it, but it's not something you ever think will actually happen. Then it does, and your mind refuses to process it.
He's not dead.
But he is.
I've felt rather manic since I felt him die. People wonder at my weird moods. Then I have to remind myself not to cry.
Sometimes it hits me so hard that I can't breathe. I want to curl up and block everything out until I can feel him in my soul again. But I still feel empty.
All my internal organs have shriveled up, leaving me hollow.
I really don't know how to go on. I know what he wants, but he can't do anything about it now. It's me who hurts. I've decided to be very selfish about this. I'm in pain, and I want him back.
Pain seems to be a way of life.
That doesn't make it any easier.
They say the complications are what make life worth living.
Who the hell are "they", anyway?
They can take my pain and try to say it again.
I think I've run out of steam. It's hard to stay excited about things now. Even in anger and sorrow and pain.
I'm still trying to find something. And I'm not sure what.
I lose myself back in sleep. Sleeping is easier. Sleep doesn't hurt.
But then I wake up, and realize that he's gone all over again, and I can barely make myself get out of bed.
I was crossing the street today, and I thought maybe everything would be better if one of those cars just didn't stop. I can't even seem to get mad at myself.
I'm empty.
Hollow.
Alone.
Nathan, why did you go?