The day before yesterday, we laid your body to rest. It was in your family cemetary. The casket was closed, and I could not go to the viewing, but I heard that you were beautiful.  But undoubtedly not as beautiful as you were in life. I am trying to be as happy as everyone wants, I am trying to wear this smile, when there is this constant struggle between light and dark. My world is in grayscale, the uplifting praise and the downtrodden lyrics that force a slow bend in time. My perception of things is no longer linear, I feel as if my seconds have become minutes, my minutes have become hours, and my hours have become days. The world is passing me by, and while some acknowledge the pain, some carry on like 9-5 factory workers, droning along back into their routine.

Every day your absence has left me broken. I could never stop the pain that you felt, and I could not seperate the now from what once was, and I wish that in that moment I could have played God if only for a second. Human love, between family and friends, only goes so far, it is always conditional, there is always a limit, but you loved entirely. You made each passing day worthwhile, you gave meaning, you gave light in my darkest hours. The pain that I feel the most is knowing that I dragged you down with me, the pain that, if I were to have been less selfish, even if only for a second, I could have said, “stop, you do not want to go here.”

I feel as though I deserve the pain of payment. The small fleshly earthly price for the eternal decision that was made. I fight thoughts in passing, in weak attempts not to entertain them. I am ready to come home. The only thing keeping me within sanity is grace, for in truth I want nothing more than to let the flame of my life burn out. I feel as if it my time, though others will argue with me. I take their words into account, I fight the urge with one hand tied behind my back. The inner quarrel has yet to subside, and at this point, I do not see it passing in the near future, but tomorrow has its own troubles. I’ve been trying to live as in the present as I possibly can, using nothing more than immediate short term memory to carry me through the day. But when I am home alone, and when I am with my own thoughts, the crippling truth crashes against me like waves on a rocky shore, and it is in this time that I have to face things as they are, battle urges, more than passing thoughts. Battle myself, more than a small voice.

I will keep writing to you, until my fingers are raw, and once they are raw, I will write until my fingers bleed. One of the few comforts is knowing that we are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, and it is then that I come to halt my fears and halt my pain, as I don’t want you to see me this way. I feel like you are there, even if only for a brief second, I do not want you to see me this way. But the struggle is real, I never put on a mask for you, and I don’t intend on starting, you helped me through pain before, I have to have hope that you can help me through pain now. You left early, and you broke my heart when you did, but, you can still love someone with all of the pieces of that broken heart, it still works for its intended purpose, it just hurts to do it.

I love you, I miss you. I will see you again someday.