Today marked 7 months, you are getting so far away from me.
I have just been missing you. I want to feel your tangible effects again. I struggle without a faith that so many have. To me, our afterlife is in the people we leave behind, in the memories of us. Your memory is so tainted by your digital trace I don’t know how to hold on to you properly.
The ones who love you won’t speak to me. They blame me for your death. I get it, I blame me too. I just want to hear them tell stories of you, it would bring you back to the corporeal even if just for a few minutes, remind me of the you I knew for so long. You were so quiet with the people outside of your close circle that nobody else really has much for me. I ask my friends but they didn’t know you well enough. I ask him but he doesn’t understand or maybe isn’t capable of looking for you.
He tells me while he stands at my side, that he hasn’t faced that he lost a friend yet, that it hasn’t hit him. That happens to me too. I find myself still thinking about calling you, or telling you things. Then something will happen and it will rush back into me. I know that 7 months ago, in this moment, I was sitting with your lifeless body, bones covered by a blanket. I know that the police were questioning me, I know the ones who love me and the ones who love you surrounded us. I know that happened, but I can forget it for a few seconds, no more, while my brain tries to tell you something.
It often feels like this is just something I have to get through to get back to you. That somewhere at the end of all this you’ll be there and it will all be better again. That life will just fall into place. Then another realisation hits me, this is it forever. No you, just me trying to find you. How could you do this to me? How could you choose this for us both?