Every day goes like this: I try to remember to shower, I try to remember to eat. I try to remember to put Jake in the shower. I try to remember to feed him. Then I go to work where I try to do my job and pretend I'm ok when really I feel like screaming the majority of the day. Then I come home and just try to survive until I can go to sleep. When I sleep, I look for Cory.
Most of the time I feel hollow and there's an unbearable ache that never goes away. Other times, when I remember certain things, my panic center goes off and I can't calm down no matter what I do. Sometimes, I feel the rage overcoming me and in it I can see her face so clearly, her eyes, and her her hands, and the way she walked. The anger begins to settle into my bones, into my person, into my walk, and my eyes change. I'm walking around with all these little barbs, and if you get too close, I'll probably say something to hurt your feelings.
It could be anything from the fact that you have live children to prom pictures on facebook. It could be that you told me not to be depressed which is basically like telling someone not to be sick. It could be your expectations that 20 years of my life should be folded and put neatly away so I can be here for my new normal family, such as it is. It could be that you told me you think suicide is selfish which means that you must think you're a better person than me. And maybe you are. I don't think it's selfish. I think it's desperate. I think it's a desperate end to an unfathomable amount of pain.
So my barbs are out. Nothing feels like home. And it's been too long since I've seen her face.
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