Work Text:
He had your eyes.
Your same color, your same shape, your same light in it.
You think so, at least. If you think about him again, you find you can't see his eyes at all: there is no vibrant gold shining in his sight, there is no wide and amazed gaze on his face, there is no spark in that gold.
There is nothing at all.
You wonder when you have stopped being able to picture him in your mind; you wonder when your imagination has started to fail you.
You haven't been able to look at your reflection ever since he passed. You can only see yourself in it, and you hate it, more than you've ever hated anything.
You wonder when you have started needing to have his picture with you to be able to feel him with you, to be able to see him, to be able to avoid him. You wonder if the voice you hear laughing and smiling in your head is still his, or if, in these months, it has distorted enough that it's not his voice anymore.
You wonder.
You wonder.
You wonder, and you wish you could stop.
Repent, that's what you're trying to do, when you scratch the lined paper with a new pencil with new words and images you don't understand, sentences that say nothing at all, pictures that mean nothing at all.
Nothing has a meaning anymore.
Nothing matters anymore.
And you, more than anything, don't matter anymore.
It doesn't matter how much you can punish yourself by seeing him on the blank paper; it doesn't matter how much you cry alone in your studio, with your hands dirty with paint and your cheeks drenched with words you never said; it doesn't matter how often you make yourself that breakfast he always loved; it doesn't matter how often you leave small field flowers at his tomb.
It doesn't matter.
He isn't going to come back.
Nothing will bring him back.
And you can only cry. Shake, sob, despair. You can only react until nothing of you is left. You can only exist.
Without him.
You need a bit more time: a bit more time to be sad, a bit more time to unlearn to exist, a bit more time to mourn.
You know you have to keep going, for him, for all he couldn't be anymore.
And it sucks.
You hate that too.
You wish you were a better friend, a better guardian, a better shoulder to cry on, a better mother.
You wish for the world when your world has been gone for months.
You wish you could have him back, if only to hold him once again, if only to be able to be something again.
Still, you can't.
So you paint and repaint over the same canvas all he could have been, you tear papers with useless apologies dirty with tears, and you let yourself be sad.
That is all you can be, now. That is all you need to be.
Nothing more, nothing less, and that, for now, is enough for you.
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I wanted to tell you that I love you
I wanted to tell you that I will always love you with all my heart and I'm sorry
I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you and
I'm sorry I wasn't who you needed by your side
When you needed me the most
I love you
I would have wanted to tell you that it was going to be alright and I would have wanted it to be true
I would have wanted to reassure you and I would have wanted to hold you and see you one last time
I would have wanted so many things, as always, and I always end up regretting what I wasn't able to do
I love you
Meguru
I will miss you
I will stop by and tell you how it's going
I will be okay for you
I will treasure all you have ever been
In the good and
In the bad
I love you
I love you
I won't ever forget you