Conversation in 2023

I’m desperate to talk to you. There’s so much I want to tell you. So much I want you to tell me. You would make all this make sense. If you were here to make it make sense … it wouldn’t have to make sense, would it?

We talked about everything. We talked about nothing. You made me think of things I had never thought of and imagine ideas that baffled & excited me at the same time.

I have to decide things on my own now. Without bouncing my decision off you first, or you off me. We always made choices together and I don’t know how to by myself.

It’s too much. Too loud. My head is still crashing. The tears keep falling, and I know it’s not helping my headache to cry but I need the physical release of this pain.

It’s supposed to be better. Why isn’t it better? Because you’re still dead. There is no “better” from that, you’re not coming back. Period.

There is no better … there will never be better.

I just need you to curl up against me in bed, to wrap your arms around me and bury your scruff in my neck and tell me everything is going to be okay and that all of this has just been a horrible horrible nightmare. I want to wake up from this now.

Whatever lesson this was supposed to teach me, I swear I’ve learned it, please, let me have him back. Please. I can’t do this alone.

I’m so empty. Just so … empty. Every day is nothing. Empty. Grey. I just don’t have anything left anymore.

I worked so hard, all my life, to be here with you. All those years, sacrifices, work, pain … all of it to finally be together, to finally have eachother and our happiness.

We found ourselves in eachother. Comfort. Patience. Understanding. Humor. The yin to my yang. Like puzzle pieces everything just fit.

Did we love too much? Too hard? Do our souls get ripped apart from eachother in every lifetime? Or just this one? Just mine?

Is there another universe out there, another timeline, that we’ve found eachother in? I hope so. I hope we’re as happy there as we were here.

Or maybe you’re waiting for me? Somewhere? Maybe you won’t come back to me until it’s my time? I hope it’s soon. I do. I don’t care what anyone says, I hope you come for me soon.

I’m so goddamn tired of every single fucking day being another useless miserable lack of existence.

I’m nothing more than a draining leeching energy sucking bag of bones anymore and I hate that after all is said and done .. that’s what I’ve become.

I gave and I gave and I gave and I gave to this world … everything I had, every breath, crawling & bleeding on the ground, I gave it all … I took every punch, every beating, every setback, every kick to the bottom, I got back up every fucking time. Every single time.

I can’t get back up anymore.