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The clock ticking gets on my nerves – I wonder why... why he liked it so much.
I look at the entirety of his room.
His stupid gun.
His stupid shirt. His stupid clothes.
Pictures of me, of him, of us, of Lynn, of our friends.
Pictures of what you like, what I like.
This room.
This room reeks of him.
I miss him.
I really do.
I sigh as my legs tremble.
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you ImissyouImissyouImissyou
“...Kei..thy...?”
Her voice enters my ears, soft and guarded –
I feel my hand snake into my hair, gripping, and gripping.
“Lynn-“
I call out to her – my voice shatters, there’s no need to hide it.
“Lynn, he... he’s gone, Lynn. H.. He’s gone!”
I feel my legs give in to my agony, falling to the ground as she struggles to help me up.
Hot, burning tears stream down my cheeks as I hold onto Lynn, her poor frame trembling just from holding me.
“Lynn.”
I cast her name like a spell –
If magic were real, he should be here.
If miracles are real, then he should be here.
I should be given an escape from this reality –
I.. I don’t know how to-
I want an escape from this reality –
From the reality that my friend is dead gone.
This.
So this is grief – a searing, numbing pain that claws holes through your form, your shape, your being -
So this is grief – numb and empty and nothing and you feel like chewing half yourself out just to get rid of a pain you can’t find.
So this is grief – this is the grief of losing a friend.
I feel her hands clutch at the sleeves of my shirt.
“Please... don’t carry the burden by yourself, Keithy.”
Her voice is calming.
Not calming enough to erase this grief.
“Lynn... I... I miss him..”
Miss... you?
Missing you... is an understatement.
I.. I want him back.
I... I need him back in my I really do I need him I need him I need him
He’s the only one who’s made me feel so happy and scared and angry and happy and sad and frustrated and ah-
He
He’s the only one that made me feel so happy, so complete -
And yet I just had to push him away.
Why did I do that?
I try to breathe slowly as my frame trembles.
I cry even harder, and breathing becomes a sport.
“....Keithy...”
Why did I do that why did I do that why did I do that why did I do that why did I do that why why why why why why whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy
I scream into my hands, a painful rasp rips through my throat.
I...
I don’t care.
I scream, I scream so hopefully he’ll be able to hear how much I need you here.
I scream his name, rendering my throat sore and raw.
Lynn cries harder.
I..
I need him.
I need him...
so much.
-
The next few weeks are a blur.
When I wake up, I’m always hugged by a feeling of emptiness.
I sigh.
That’s... right.
You... You aren’t... here, any..more.
I look at the flower crown he left for me.
It’s so beautiful.
It still smells of him somehow.
It still smells of him and motor oil, of him and exhaust smoke, and him and me – it smells of him and it’s suffocating me.
I...
I don’t want to let go of him.
I don’t want to.
I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to
—
Without him?
... Without him, days and nights are a blur.
I... don’t want to go out without some form of him anymore.
I sigh..
Today.
Today, no, tonight, is the first time...
I’ve gone... without.. Lynn.
She’s... seemed to have.. moved on.
...
I still miss him, you know that?
When I come from school, all I can think of is him.
All I can smell is him and gunpowder. I can smell everything that made his smell.. his.
I can feel everything that made him... him.
And having those items hurt me.
I..
I look down at the flower crown in my hands...
My purple hyacinths are bunched and twisted around the wire.
I smile.
I think... I think...
I think he’ll like this.
My phone rings.
(It’s Lynn. I just... know.)
I answer.
“Keith! Where are you?! I’ve been looking for you!”
Her tone is firm.
“...S..Sorry, Lynn. I’m just busy.”
I play with my crown in my other hand..
I don’t pay attention, all I can register are her last words.
(“Come home when you’re done, Keith!”)
Home.
...
His home became nothing without him, you know.
It feels so... empty.
It feels so... devoid of life.
I place my phone in my pocket.
I place the flower crown on my head as I look down at the bustling crowds of the silent city.
This is my grief.
This is my grief – a mixture of hatred and self-deprecation; a mixture of regret and determination. A mixture of me and you in my selfish memories.
...
“Keith?”
..
It’s...
“You...”
I look up, and I see him in his glory.
I...
I reach out for his hand.
“Huh? No can do, Keithy. You need to follow me.”
I push against the railing.
I shake it, feeling the metal dig into my skin.
Please.
Please, let me see him-
“Go on, Keithy.”
When I jump into his arms –
I feel so happy.
I feel... free.
Thank you.
Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.
My flower crown falls faster.