Remembering The Pain - And Learning To Heal
The story of us
Thalia... So beautiful... Why'd you have to leave me?
*Flashback*
It's so dark outside. In my mind it is. The air was cool and crisp. My kind of weather. It would be a day for outside. Picnics, walks, bike riding, just sitting under a tree and reading a book. The sun shone beautifully on it's slow decent across the clear blue sky. Very few clouds in sight. It's actually not a bad day. Or it wouldn't be. If the circumstances were different. If the beautiful girl I loved wasn't in a coffin being lowered into the ground. I tried not to look. So as not to break down for the third time that day. If her family can be strong, then what right do I have to weep and bawl and fling myself accross her beautiful cold body. I look up at the sun instead. Watching it decend, instead of watching my love lowered.
Further.
And further away from me.
So close, yet so far. Taken...
I tilt my head down and feel a hot pair of eyes on me. I turn to see Thalia's mother. Looking at me sadly. If the ceremony wasn't still going on, I would jump up and hug her. Her expression saying what words cant. I feel she was the only one attending who felt the way I did. The only one who let me cry during one of my breakdowns instead of shushing me and telling me to get up.
To be strong.
To be a MAN.
I'm not a man.
I'm not strong.
I'm weak. I let my love leave. I've failed her, and myself. Her mother, Robin I think her name is, gave me a small smile. It wasn't forced. It didn't hold happiness. Or warmth. But it held love. I think she is the only one alive that still loves me. I turn my head back to the front to watch what was going on, but I couldn't pay attention. The cool brisk wind whistling through the trees seemed to tell my story. About the pain and suffering I feel has just begun. They whisper the name. The name of my true love.
*End Flashback*
I can feel myself shaking as I rummage through the papers, all of which have a small number written in nice cursive handwriting at the top right corner.
"She's numbered them..." I mutter softly. I start flicking papers everywhere on my bed. There are pictures here from when we first met, to days before she ended her life. I always wondered why she took so many photos. How long has she been planning this? I'm shoving photos and letters aside. Looking for the first one. The one that started the story. The story of us.
*Flashback*
It's so dark outside. In my mind it is. The air was cool and crisp. My kind of weather. It would be a day for outside. Picnics, walks, bike riding, just sitting under a tree and reading a book. The sun shone beautifully on it's slow decent across the clear blue sky. Very few clouds in sight. It's actually not a bad day. Or it wouldn't be. If the circumstances were different. If the beautiful girl I loved wasn't in a coffin being lowered into the ground. I tried not to look. So as not to break down for the third time that day. If her family can be strong, then what right do I have to weep and bawl and fling myself accross her beautiful cold body. I look up at the sun instead. Watching it decend, instead of watching my love lowered.
Further.
And further away from me.
So close, yet so far. Taken...
I tilt my head down and feel a hot pair of eyes on me. I turn to see Thalia's mother. Looking at me sadly. If the ceremony wasn't still going on, I would jump up and hug her. Her expression saying what words cant. I feel she was the only one attending who felt the way I did. The only one who let me cry during one of my breakdowns instead of shushing me and telling me to get up.
To be strong.
To be a MAN.
I'm not a man.
I'm not strong.
I'm weak. I let my love leave. I've failed her, and myself. Her mother, Robin I think her name is, gave me a small smile. It wasn't forced. It didn't hold happiness. Or warmth. But it held love. I think she is the only one alive that still loves me. I turn my head back to the front to watch what was going on, but I couldn't pay attention. The cool brisk wind whistling through the trees seemed to tell my story. About the pain and suffering I feel has just begun. They whisper the name. The name of my true love.
*End Flashback*
I can feel myself shaking as I rummage through the papers, all of which have a small number written in nice cursive handwriting at the top right corner.
"She's numbered them..." I mutter softly. I start flicking papers everywhere on my bed. There are pictures here from when we first met, to days before she ended her life. I always wondered why she took so many photos. How long has she been planning this? I'm shoving photos and letters aside. Looking for the first one. The one that started the story. The story of us.
10/17/13