Needed to write something..

In a desperate need to talk to someone, I turned to my phone and searched your name. Clicked it. Then immediately hung up. The motion was that easy. I needed someone. That was you. But then I remembered.

I’m not sure who to turn to anymore. So I didn’t turn to anyone. I cling to myself, and my memories of you.

Friends. Family. They all want to be there. They want to help in some way. But the thing about that is, how do they help me with something that I don’t know how to fix? If I don’t how to make this better, how will they?

I can’t keep turning to them and talking about you. About memories that pop up daily. Sure, everyone listens politely. It brings every mood down and then they feel the need to try to accommodate me. They force sad smiles, upbeat quotes.

“The pain of your loss will ease with time.”

But does it? Or have I just become use to the aching feeling of your loss?

The feeling to be isolated was my first priority for a while. I didn’t know who to turn to. I didn’t understand why no one could see how much pain I was in. But I dug myself out of it. My family did understand. They went through it too. So why is still so hard to express my feelings? It was never this hard before. I’m normally pretty dramatic, and everyone knows how I’m feeling. But now…now I don’t really want to talk about my feelings. My best friends, you know me. Better than most. But I can’t express myself in the ways that you’ll understand. I need to talk about the memories sometimes. I need to talk about them all because if not, then it feels like they’ll fade away. It feels like I’m not acknowledging the most wonderful woman I knew.

But it’s hard to tell others about her memories. They won’t feel the love and life that are in the memories. And that hurts because they missed out on someone amazing.

There’s never enough time to mourn a loss. I’ll mourn for the rest of my life. When I get married without her there. When I have kids and she’s not their grandma. When I get the job that makes me feel important.

Shit can you imagine how many things she’s going to miss? All of them. All. Of. Them. And yet, here I am, trying to write something that makes me feel better because I just needed this off my chest. I needed to talk to someone, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

I’m not depressed. I’m not sending out any type of self help. I just needed to do this. For me. Because sometimes the only thing that can help is to talk to no one.

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