I Was Six Months Alone

I didn’t have anything to say and I still don’t. Somehow, it’s been six months, just like somehow it was a day, then a week, then a month. Just like it will somehow be a year, then two, then five, then enough time will have passed that even Earth will be thought of as a myth.

–––

I miss him dearly.

–––

Thoughts wander and still snap back to him being dead and the shocks are still violent. I still see or learn things and think that he’d love to hear about them – lessons, words, etc. I gotta tell Dad about thi– fuck.

Fuck.

It’s like there’s a tear in the fabric where he stood. All that’s left are the torn edges and emptiness.

–––

There are no grand thoughts, just dismay. No progress, just stasis. I wake, I walk, I work, I listen to podcasts, I read, I struggle to sleep without sleeping pills, and then I do it all again.

At risk of being mawkish and overwrought, this is the dark time and I don’t know where to look for light.

終