Tuesday, March 25, 2008
♥ Tuesday, March 25, 2008
'Cuz I'm so sick of love songs
So tired of tears
I'm having the blues. I think.
Know the feeling, when you think you're over something but you find that you're wrong, you're so so wrong?
Or, when you've just barely started to move on, things come back and haunt you. Again.
Sometimes, I dream about him.
Some nights I don't.
But always, I think of him.
I've found some people in my predicament. So Krist. Pris. Besides for me, this one's to you.
I think it's the same with a sibling. Annoys you, bites you, whines to you, wants your attention, wants attention - kinda like a burden. When he's still there.
But when someone goes it's all these you miss. Know what you miss?
Everything.
I think I've been careful, gingerly treading my path all these while ever since that day. I've made sure I'd done the right things, made sure I'd eat, breathe, live. Because I should. Made sure I worked at math sums and music theory, and made sure I blogged enough to keep this place alive. Made sure my hair was parted, neat - look fine, think fine. And you were.
But it's not about making sure.
Days are only 12 hours in 24. Twelve I try to be okay, to live without him. The other twelve, I just want to sit down and cry.
Like now.
I think you guys feel it too. When you look by the sofa, expecting to see something there, chest heaving, either asleep or pretending to; When you wake up in the morning, late for first feed, rushing to brush your teeth, only remembering you don't have to anymore. When you get a scolding from mom and you run to your room, in tears, expecting the jingle of a collar to follow you. But you don't.
It's in times, like these, when you least expect it. That you miss him all that much.
I think it weirds me out, how people can act like it's all okay in the day. But then again it doesn't as much as it did, right now. Because I think I'm doing it as well.
You could read Chicken Soup for the gazillionth time and still not be prepared for something. You could think of the day for the gabillionth time and still not feel okay.
Because it's not.
Some friends don't understand though we know they mean well. Some friends make it worse. Some friends constantly bring it up, blatantly, thinking getting used to it means nothing wrong. They don't think it's much of a deal, that we'll-get-over-it-soon but it's not about getting over, you know? Just like breathing, it's not about inhaling, exhaling. It's about living and saying to yourself the word and believe it, and not feel like you're short of breath.
I can't bear to look into his eyes when his picture flashes on my desktop, a screensaver, a wallpaper.
It doesn't matter, I still can't bear to look anyway.
Everyone grieves at their own pace, I'm pretty slow I think. But I guess though it's torturous now to keep hearing his name all the time I'm gonna finally breathe mentioning his name, from my own mouth and not crumble, not stop living.
Cause eventually, when someone dies, they get remembered, and missed, and treasured.
It's just sad how no one does that for them right now. Not in the future, but right. Now.
All we've gotta remember is that we've gotta hold on cause we have each other. Then nothing'd really matter anymore, cause in the dead of the night all I've gotta do is say goodnight, and I'd hear, see, in the faintest breeze or the slightest change in the brightness of my eyes, that he'd be listening to me, with that same perk in his face, that wag of his tail - always watching me, my guardian angel.
And I bet. You'd sleep, smiling. Contented. To just see him that one last time.
Cause maybe, just maybe - it's all you ever wanted.
