There are tiny pockets of light scattered about, but for the most part it is all darkness. How it is possible to see, to notice anything in this place is beyond me. But I can see, and I can see the darkness stretching long into the expanse. It’s never-ending.
Anticipation. That feeling lingers in my chest. I have this hope that I will hear him again. And I know it’s just destructive, retardedly destructive, but no one can imagine and most certainly no one can possibly conceive how much I miss him. Or how hard it is to breathe. It’s so hard to breathe when I feel him. When I remember the feeling he gave me. Those butterflies. That my search was over. And I got to take that deep warm breath. The one we long to take when we sense that finally – all is right with the world. And so I still hold onto him and that feeling – and each time I imagine seeing him again I feel anticipation. It is always shortly followed with wet cheeks and the usual clenched throat. Realistically I know he’s not coming back and my hope to see him just one more time is a silly little hope from a silly little girl, but part of me still wonders how it can really truly be that I won’t see him ever again. I mean, really? Something must be wrong. I really wish something is wrong.
I wonder if this is partly denial. But I don’t think that’s what they identify denial as. Denial is me getting through this by pretending he didn’t ever exist. I know that’s faulty problem solving, and it catches up with me, but I really don’t know what else to do. It’s too hard. This experience is way too fucking hard. I can’t live it everyday. I can’t deal with it everyday. I have to live in this imaginary world. But sadly, I think it is slowly destroying me.
I try to reason that Dave obviously couldn’t have been the one for me, otherwise he wouldn’t have died. But then anticipation floods back into me and I feel like such an asshole for having just reasoned him to be an unimportant part of my life. And then that stupid thing happens in my brain. I drift into the stupid thought area and I envision what life would be like if he were still here. That basically kills me. And I feel so stupid – for everything. For even meeting him. For loving him. For leaving him to go to New Zealand. For just fucking loving him. I can attest that the brain and heart are truly connected – for as long as my heart has been broken, I still cannot picture nor anticipate a greater life than the one I lost and the one I still long to have. Obviously the sign of a broken mind.
My fear is not only in that I will one day accept he is not coming back. I’m afraid I will forget the feeling he gave me and I will never ever ever find it on this world again. I’m afraid that eleven months with Dave is all I will ever get. I’m afraid I will never know love again. I’m afraid I will keep pretending he wasn’t important and that one day that will become my truth. I’m afraid I will never have the strength to be the girl this experience created – because that won’t happen until I realize he really is never coming back.
The darkness is consuming, yet the light is far too enchanting. Merely focusing on it alters this place – it comes alive and the lights begin to move and bounce past in a shimmer of lines. But for all the light there are no shadows, for nothing else exists. Just light and the ever-present darkness. And then all is still again.