Three days ago we talked for hours and days before,. we talked all night. I really miss you bro, everything we talked about... and you were always there for me; obviously I didn't do enough for you.
I still can't believe it, I think I block it out mostly. You're still around, you'll be back soon, you'll talk to me again tonight, we'll sit drinking together again... its actually painful when I realise you are never ever coming back for the rest of my entire life; ever. That it's the end, really the end, of your life.
I guess I never gave it much of a thought; dying. Living, yes; and what I thought was death was really just the opposite of life. There's no way to see all of the people devastated by the fact that youre gone... you just left your sadness here with us, I guess.
I would like to think that you're looking down on me. That when I sit and I talk, that you can hear me. Or at least understand that I'm sorry, if I could turn back time I would change everything and hopefully it would be enough.
I know nothing I could have said would have stopped you. But Im still caught in the tangles of all the things I never said, all the things I'll never say.
People that used to laugh at you don't laugh anymore. The sad bit? They don't remember.
People you never knew say that they miss you. They use the fact that we have all lost you as a way to get sympathy and it just fucking makes my blood boil. They never fucking spoke to you. They aren't missing you every fucking day, every single fucking day. They're using you... even now. You should fucking see them...
guess you can't.
I'm planning on getting a tattoo soon, in memory of you.
I had a job for a while, but I lost it. I wish I could talk to you about it all, there's just... so much going on at the moment.
I miss you. I miss you a fucking lot, every day. And every night I feel the emptiness, the space where you used to be, the hours that you would fill up the night talking with me.
There's no point to this. There's no real point to anything. I just wish I could talk to you, even though I would hardly know what to say. Im lost for words even now, although I can feel that lump rising in my throat which is either words or tears and Im not sure which.
I could write for hours, but what good would that do?
Oh and that lump in my throat was tears.