Ive been down, up, inside and out. All I can do now is sit cross legged in front of the window and look for him.
Of course unless they have figured out a way to raise the dead, bring back what is forever lost, I will keep staring at the nothingness that the window has to offer. I don't know why I came back, other than to gather every little memory I could of him, like it's somehow going to make the pain go away. It's been well over a month and it's only gotten worse. They say I'm catonic, whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. THEY say I need therapy, maybe some hypno-brainwashing shit to help me forget. Who the fuck are THEY anyway? Like they would even know. Why do people have the need to change other people? Make them fit into their own world so it's a sunnier place. My place is perfect and dark and absolutely tearful the way it is.
Of course unless they have figured out a way to raise the dead, bring back what is forever lost, I will keep staring at the nothingness that the window has to offer. I don't know why I came back, other than to gather every little memory I could of him, like it's somehow going to make the pain go away. It's been well over a month and it's only gotten worse. They say I'm catonic, whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. THEY say I need therapy, maybe some hypno-brainwashing shit to help me forget. Who the fuck are THEY anyway? Like they would even know. Why do people have the need to change other people? Make them fit into their own world so it's a sunnier place. My place is perfect and dark and absolutely tearful the way it is.