Six years. It doesn't feel real, you know? How could it? Time, isn't real either.
It still doesn't effect me in the same way it does the others.
I still don't know where exactly her remains are. I don't really care to know either. It wouldn't change anything. I never go back there, maybe once in six months or something. There's not really anything there for me. Sure, Shelley lives back there, but she's got her own life to live. My presence wouldn't matter. She's got her hands extremely full with her kids.
Wild to think that, isn't it? Of course, we've come extremely far from the kids we were. I'd consider myself "better", if only by comparison of who I was before. Not completely healed, no, but better. Which is also wild to consider. I never thought I would make it this far in life. I fully expected to have already been dead. But..., this life isn't bad. Some days, I could even consider it to be "good". Which is so much more than I had ever dared hope for.
Occasionally, I still think about her. But it's always in passing, like, "Oi, bet she would have loved this song. Sucks she isn't here to experience it too." And then the feeling passes and my normal resumes. But..., that's called progress isn't it? But it isn't like I was ever super torn up about it either. Not like the rest of them.
So..., why am I doin' this then? To what end? To make sense of it I guess. I need and want to read that book I've got. But I have numerous questions about it. And no one with which to discuss it. I want more friends to talk to about things like that, but everyone gets all sad and depressed when talking about death and dying. It's just a matter of acceptance, isn't it? At least..., that's how I see it. Obviously, there are lots of feelings and things involved. But..., it boils down to acceptance. It is what it is. Death is final and absolute. No point bitching about it, yeah?
Maybe that view is cold though..., I don't know, honestly. I'm not trying to be an asshole about it.
Occasionally, I hear a cover of a song, and I would want to ask if she had heard it's original. Obviously, I can't. But still, in those cases, I like to think it is a song that she would have enjoyed, a least a little. And probably would have been wondering why I enjoyed such a "sad" tune. I can't help that though, sometimes the sadness is necessary you know? The music just helps it flow out better.
I guess..., there is a lot I would say to her. A lot that went unsaid. Which, logically, I know it doesn't matter. I do not have regret in that manner, of the way we left things. I was true to myself and she to hers. But I guess..., I grieve for all that she has missed? All that she will never get to see of her child.
Of course, that doesn't mean I have forgiven her. No..., I don't think I ever will. Regardless of how well things go throughout the course of this life. Maybe that is selfish? Or something? I don't know. Just like I don't know why I'm bothering here. No one cares, no one reads this sad bullshit. But it isn't for anyone else. Not really, it's just a way to get my feelings out. To sort them into something.
I've come pretty far, like I said. But sometimes, it really feels like that shell of apathy is too thick to break. Things that should effect me, simply don't. Are viewed as mere problems *over there* and the pragmatic side solves it. Something I've always prided myself on, being able to do the damn thing and fuck the feelings involved. What needs doing gets done and it's as simple as that, y'know?
Is what it is.
Six years, huh?
Time sure flies. I'd say I don't recognize myself anymore, but that isn't entirely accurate.
It's more..., I've become who I've always been. It's just apparent to the rest of the world now.
Wild to think, isn't it? But, life goes on, as always.