eight

some days it still doesn't feel real.

some days i think i can just pick up the phone and you'll be there.

still.

i just wish i could talk to you again.  there is so much i wish i could tell you; so much i wish you weren't missing out on.

i hate that i think that people have forgotten you.  not me, not matthew, or dad; but other people.  sometimes it makes me angry that they go on like nothing ever happened and i have a hole in my heart so large a ship could sail through it.

i miss you so much.

still.

today people will go on about their business like it's a normal day and i will be fighting a losing battle with depression.  oh, i'll smile and i'll act "normal" because, after eight years, it's what's expected of me.  but inside...

inside i'll be dying a little more.  i'll be screaming for people to pay attention to the fact that the world is not the same because you aren't here.  i'll be crying and i'll be feeling like my soul is being ripped out.

still.

and i love you.

still