perfect moments

Well, I thought the tears were over. I knew, as I wrote those words, it was coming around again. God, why can’t I get him out of my thoughts? I keep telling myself that he wasn’t happy here, or with me. I keep telling myself that he’s in a better place; I keep telling myself a lot of things. I feel so empty most of the time, like some vital part has been ripped from me and placed on display.

Those little reminders of him are not coming as often and there are moments, albeit brief, where I feel really good. It’s just those little memory flashes, so vivid and imposing as they assume control. There can be no doubt as to his intentions, but yet here I am still, crying over something that will never be.

I feel really estranged from everyone. I’m so busy that I can’t and don’t feel like visiting my grandmother but thoughts of her passing make me feel incredibly guilty. I know I should spend more time with her, but I’m so, so tired and being around her is very draining. As for my mother, I’m 35 and still feel like I’m being judged when I speak with her. I’ve no friends that are real, they’re just facsimiles of people I used to like and trust. The ones I do see daily seem to only be evasive or nuisances like Casper.

I’m sitting here in my neon lit cubicle, remembering that night before my birthday – driving after the movie while holding hands with him. We said nothing, just letting the hum of the motor and our touch communicate our words. That was one of the most perfect moments of my life.