I walk around in a constant haze, the clouds won’t clear and I struggle to see any kind of sense in this life. It feels like another reality, like I’m in another world, from another time and I have no clue what is going on. Every step is a risk for I’m not sure if what is in front of me really is what it appears. Every step is a risk because it brings me further into the future where you don’t exist. You were from some other reality, that life was some other life. None of this is real. It’s all a dream and hopefully soon I’ll wake up. My logic tells me it’s not a dream. My logic says you were real once. But my heart and my insides can’t fathom that you can just disappear. My insides can’t bear to think about it. I hear your voice. I watch a video of you talking to me and I crumble. Our connection – I feel like I’ve lost a part of me, like some ethereal umbilical cord has been severed from my torso. And the pain – it feels so real, like a big gaping wound drips from me, gasping to connect to that energy that was you, but it can’t find you. It seeks and seeks and seeks. It grows exhausted and it tells me the bad news. And I crumble. It was all so perfect. We were perfect. How can this really be? I want to ask what kind of sick joke this is, but what kind of evil would play such a twisted joke? Surely evil like that doesn’t really exist, and yet I know. I miss every inch of you. I miss the way you would touch my face. I miss the way you would look at me. I miss the way you bit your lip. I miss your confidence. I miss the way your body would hold me, engulf me, make me feel whole. The way I had to wrap my leg on yours just to fall asleep. The way I’d hold your arm across me. The way you’d call me babe or baby. The way your head would tilt. The way you’d say ‘amazing.’ The way we could talk for hours and hours.  The way you were excited to hear from me. The way you were excited to tell me everything. We thought we had all the time in the world. I’m left here still wanting more. Still desiring more. Still needing more. I have so much to tell you, to show you, to give you. But this gaping wound tells me something is wrong. I’d trust it if only for the haze. I still can’t see through the haze. I still don’t know which way is up. All I have an idea of is how to put my feet in front of me and hope that my body will know what to do. Hope that my heart knows what to do. Hope that my mind can get me through this. Hope that if I keep my self aware that I can live through this. But life as I know it is forever changed. Nothing is what it once was. My world has been rocked and I don’t think I believe the things I once did. I don’t think I believe any of what has been. It’s all different. The meaning of everything has changed.


About humanbeen

I'm a has-been that was. I'm a dreamer that does.
This entry was posted in coping, death, grief, heartbreak, loss. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to haze

  1. Gen says:

    Keep putting one foot in front of the other. The place you are in is dark and the pain that you feel is real, it will clear you will see clearly and feel deeply again. One foot in front of the other. Feel your pain, cry your tears, remember that your friends love you too. That love will not replace what you have lost, but it is there for you.
    It breaks my heart to know that you have lost something so special to you.

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