The Ninety-Second: A Day Like Others

Do I break my heart for fun?
If not fun, then to fuel the strangely addictive trauma of loss?
Lost friends, past lovers, family gone.
People that touched my life in one way or another, leave a lasting imprint, but also an unquenchable thirst for knowledge of "what if".

The Ninety-First: Of All The Days

I honestly never thought I'd feel this anger again. Well, it's inevitable, but I just can't understand why. Another day where someone departed this realm too early and everyone left behind suffers. Seems deep and dark and terrifying, mainly because it is.

I talked to you whilst I was in the shower tonight. Yelled your name. Yelled both your names actually. But you, M.I.A., your day of remembrance is today, on the other side of the country. It's unfathomably hilarious and unfair to me that my appendix almost ruptured last week, preventing me from closure today, but it isn't about me anyway.

There is no point to this.
This post, or life, it seems.
Always the furious darkness. Time and time again. Perhaps one day I'll find a consistent light; a lantern to take with me and hold when I can't find a spark.

The Ninetieth: Maroon Shirt

You were in my dream last night.

Everyone was sitting around and you were just...there. I knew as well that you hadn't been there for a while and it was somewhat of a big deal. You didn't say anything, you just stood there smiling at everyone whilst the rest of us chatted. I remember Lani's face was a little shocked, but no one was sad. I think some were laughing at the stunt you'd pulled; convincing us you weren't there for so long only to suddenly reappear.

If only.

The Eighty-Ninth: You

I've tried so many different combinations of words to express even part of what I've been feeling this week.



They found you last week, after six months of searching. It cast everyone into an even deeper level of pain than they thought was possible. I keep feeling so angry at you but then so unimaginably sad at the thought of how you spent the last months/weeks/days of your life. Every time I wake up this week I spend a few seconds pulling my head into reality then immediately think of you. Thoughts for the rest of the day don't really stray too far from there.



This changes everything.

It changes everything any of my friends have ever come to know.

Fuck Matt, fuck fuck fuck.

Why? Just, all of it. Why?

You had a world of potential, of people that loved you. Of opportunities and adventures.



Now you're forever forging your own path, I hope you find peace.

The Eighty-Eighth: Where I Can't See

Vessel

I feel like I'm walking through someone else's life.
Everything is unfamiliar
The familiar feels foreign
A slow drift past what I thought I knew
Surreality is the new comfort
Anxiety is the new black.

I can't put my head in the right place
Where is 'the right place'?

I envy your conviction
The force with which you stand still
The courage with which you leap
Twice I've learnt the hard way,
that once is never enough.

The Eighty-Seventh: M.I.A.

I have no words to accurately describe the overwhelming power yet complete lack of emotions going on in my body.

You are not gone, you should not be gone. You are not gone.

The Eighty-Sixth: And Time Again

I learnt recently that a year in your life seems shorter as you grow older because a year becomes fractionally smaller as time passes. When you're one, a year is your entire life; however when you're 23, a year is a much shorter measure.

When I looked in the mirror this morning, I had a sudden realisation of, "I look older." As if I had jumped a few years overnight. In reality, it was almost as if I hadn't truly looked at my face in such a long time that I had simply overlooked the big picture and focussed on smaller details.

I also read not too long ago that time was a 'concept invented by man' and that other animals obviously do not keep track of time, therefore they are completely free of it's restraints. We are obsessed with time. How little or how much we have of it. How we use it and what for.

"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." - Gandalf, believe it.

What a thought, to think that we are given time. That the Time Emperor (no, not the Time Lord) gives us a set amount and we can only exist within it's parameters. Time could be interpreted as existence. It is a name and a unit of measurement given to the state of being. Time is neither controlled nor forgiving.

The funny thing about time is that whilst we pause in our own lives to complain about how we don't have enough minutes or hours or days or years, they're passing us by.