I can’t tell you how much I longed for a little sister when I was growing up. being the oldest and at the time only girl was hard because my experiences and memories are so different than my brothers. 17 years later and guess what I finally get a sister and am never going to relate to her or being able to have a close relationship to her because of it. I want so badly to be able to teach that she is worthy and to never let anyone treat her like she isn’t anything less than perfect. I was to instill in her the most confidence that people get it confused with cockiness and to never have to depend happiness and feelings on another person in her life.

after everything I went to shit my fall back was smoking. weed became my cushion and smoking all the time was the way to get your dumb ass out of my head. I started smoking consistently and then right before bed because going to bed high meant going to sleep and not dreaming about you. lately I haven’t been smoking nearly as much as I used to. last night I has a miserable dream that you were invited to some occasion with a lot of ppl I knew and when it was over you were looking for me. finally you found me in the bathroom changing in a rush because I saw you and needed to leave. you came up to me and said we needed to talk. you started with hailey and I are not going to work out and went on this whole escapade of how and why you need and miss me. being so flustered and sucked into your bullshit I fall for it tell you we can make it work but they are boundaries. as were talking Alex comes up to us and I tell her everything is fine as we all get up to leave. were getting ready to get in your car and decide to try and make it work. what a joke.

I think I have this three year curse. I get blessed (well maybe) with this extraordinary person that changes everything or makes everything surrounding irrelevant. It’s a long road full of memories and many bumps in the road. As everything starts to come to an end this overwhelming feeling takes over me and I know deep down it’s over and soon enough when 3 years comes around it’s all over…

When a person leaves, you keep something of theirs for yourself. Maybe you’ll keep his favorite t-shirt or that vinyl record of The Beatles, his battered copy of The Old Man and The Sea. These are tiny bits of his soul you are allowed to have left and they are bittersweet parting gifts you get to hide in the chest under your bed. But the ones that hurt the most to keep are memories. His sleepy smile in the mornings, the smudge of paint on his cheek after he paints, the look in his eyes when he said he loved you. You close your eyes and you see all of these beautiful pictures and it hurts… so much. But that’s the thing. It hurts and you can’t even throw them away, not like letters you can burn, or a coffee mug you can break. They’re etched under your skin like scars no one can see, bleeding without killing you. Instead it’s a forever kind of pain; indestructible and permanent. He’s the pain that never heals.

Therapist: Do you miss him?

Me: I don’t know. I think I do, but I’m not sure how.

Therapist: What do you mean?

Me: I’m not sure if I miss his presence or I miss the idea of him. If what I miss is truly all of him or just the parts that suited me. Do I miss the man he was or the man I wanted him to be? I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just deliberately glorifying missing him. Like maybe my heart is healed but it just refuses to let him go.