She did not suffer, I hear echo in my head, but you will. I tune them out as they talk about how great she was, and how everyone will miss her. My classmates all have tears in there eyes. I do not.
I am hollow, I am empty, I am nothing. I cannot feel, or I will break into a thousand screaming pieces. I feel doors and windows locking in my head. Dark things move behind my opened eyes, and though i am sitting in a crowded auditorium all i see are brown eyes and golden hair. I hear imaginary voices laugh, mocking my pain.
For at least a full minute, I do not blink. I am unsure as to whether or not I am breathing. For at least a full minute, I am completely and entirely insane. I am diving down a very dark rabbit hole.
But, out of the blue, some small part of my mind is filled with sunshine and warmth. A memory boils up from within. Me and her, sitting together at lunch while everyone else studiously ignores us, me. A small smile here, a touch there. Passed notes, copied homework, and a thousand other little things which were to me more cherished than any heaven or earth.
These precious things that I will not have again, not from her. I find myself taking a breadth. But I did have them, did I not? I tell myself this, and the voices recede. I twitch my finger to see if I can. I take another breadth. I feel very heavy, I compare myself to Atlas and think this burden greater. But I feel.
We are being dismissed, and I have no idea how much time has passed. A moment, an hour, three hours? I cannot tell. I stand up mechanically with my row. I do not allow myself to think of anything in particular. Grief blurs the edges of my vision, but it feels very far away, like it belongs to someone else entirely.
Perhaps these memories for mine have saved me from madness, but not from the tortures of grief, of regret. I am alone again. I think of the closed off pieces of my mind, my hidden emotions. I decided it is best to leave them as they are.
I am hollow, I am empty, I am nothing. I cannot feel, or I will break into a thousand screaming pieces. I feel doors and windows locking in my head. Dark things move behind my opened eyes, and though i am sitting in a crowded auditorium all i see are brown eyes and golden hair. I hear imaginary voices laugh, mocking my pain.
For at least a full minute, I do not blink. I am unsure as to whether or not I am breathing. For at least a full minute, I am completely and entirely insane. I am diving down a very dark rabbit hole.
But, out of the blue, some small part of my mind is filled with sunshine and warmth. A memory boils up from within. Me and her, sitting together at lunch while everyone else studiously ignores us, me. A small smile here, a touch there. Passed notes, copied homework, and a thousand other little things which were to me more cherished than any heaven or earth.
These precious things that I will not have again, not from her. I find myself taking a breadth. But I did have them, did I not? I tell myself this, and the voices recede. I twitch my finger to see if I can. I take another breadth. I feel very heavy, I compare myself to Atlas and think this burden greater. But I feel.
We are being dismissed, and I have no idea how much time has passed. A moment, an hour, three hours? I cannot tell. I stand up mechanically with my row. I do not allow myself to think of anything in particular. Grief blurs the edges of my vision, but it feels very far away, like it belongs to someone else entirely.
Perhaps these memories for mine have saved me from madness, but not from the tortures of grief, of regret. I am alone again. I think of the closed off pieces of my mind, my hidden emotions. I decided it is best to leave them as they are.
