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I envy you, reader.
If you desired, you could simply leave now, just walk away from this tale of tragedy. You could simply walk away and not have to feel the anguish I do, you could continue to live in ignorant bliss.
Some of us aren’t as lucky.
I have no choice but to feel the agony, the loss .
I’m forced to accept that my bestfriend, my soulmate , is dead.
TommyInnit is dead. I just simply have to accept that.
But i fucking can’t. I just can’t.
Tommy taught me how to love.
Tommy is was love.
He was all things of love; he was the bookshelf, piled high with trinkets and mementos and postcards of all the most cherished memories. He was the sun and moon, bright and comforting. He was the morning dew on the most delicate flower petal. He was the earth and all the people living on it, with hearts of gold and eyes of diamonds.
He was the things that made me happy, that made me smile.
Then suddenly, time stops, and you are left alone in space. Floating , floating endlessly through the galaxy with a hole in your heart and bittersweet memories.
I know I couldn't have stopped his death, but I still can’t help but to regret.
Though it was no longer regret for the past, but instead the lost future. Not what had been, but what never would be.
I want him back, in every way.
I want him to run along next to me in flower fields, to hear his obnoxious laugh, the one that no matter what makes everyone smile.
I want him to call me at 4am, too sad to say hello, to listen to his silence until he falls asleep.
I want him to cry, I wouldn't wipe away his tears because he would be human, alive, and sometimes tears are as close to laughter as he can get and that's okay.
I want him to get sleepy and fall asleep in my arms and I wouldn’t laugh if he snored too loud or drooled on my jumper.
I want him to yell so hard that his voice cracks and his knees fail, I would hold him up and yell with him.
I want him to get so angry he punches the walls until his hands are stained red, I would ice his knuckles and tell him that wounds heal, both inside and out, and just like the cold and harsh burning, I would always be the warmth to soothe him and make him feel better.
I long to love him again.
Isn’t it funny, longing? Such a soft word for such a ravenous feeling.
Honestly, this hurts more than you imagine. They always tell you that you don’t understand loss unless you have experienced it and oh, how honest they were.
But I won’t let pain turn the memory of Tommy into something bitter. I knew him and that was enough.
I need to accept and let go. But how do you let go of someone who felt like home?
I envy you, reader. For you can simply forget this, after all this is all fantasy to you. Not to me, this is my reality.
You can simply go back to a time where he was alive and happy.
Say goodbye to him for me.