I'm Not.

All I ever want to do anymore is lie in bed. It's like there isn't any point in doing anything else. So I lie in bed and I stare at the walls and sometimes, sometimes I cry. It's never much-not because I think I'm too 'man' to cry or something like that. I think, in my life, I wasted all my tears. Crying over dead pets and lost wallets, instead of saving them for the one thing that would really kill me. The thing that I would truly need to cry over.

Lately, I just feel like there's this giant black hole in me. Right where you and your love used to be, keeping me from losing myself. You succeeded-those months, the ones that felt like years, I was as whole as I'd ever be in my entire life. And now that you're gone, it's like I'm flying away. But it's not the good flying sensation, the one where you feel so amazing and invincible that you're sure you can do anything. It's the other one, the one that happens when the plane suddenly drops, or hits turbulence-it's the one that makes your heart jump to your throat and your stomach do flip-flops and your brain scream this is it, we're dying. It's been fun buddy, but I guess this is the last time we'll be seeing each other. And it's a feeling I think nobody should ever have to have.

I never much liked flying, anyway.

I don't believe that you can just stop loving someone, no matter what.. I think that if you can just walk out on someone, you never really loved them. But I don't want to believe that you never loved me. So...I guess my logic is flawed.

Or maybe it's just me and my brain.

At first, I thought it was a joke. I sincerely thought you were joking. Just days before, we'd been curled in bed together, me awake, you still sleeping. I remember looking at your beautiful hair, not quite black but not really brown either, strewn across your face and the pillowcase. Your light pink lips, parted enough to see your teeth, small and yellow from smoke. I remember that morning, I woke you up with a kiss and told you how much I loved you. You smiled, and told me that you loved me too, but you wanted to sleep more. And you rolled around and went straight to sleep.

Did you know? At that very moment, did you think "Four days from now, I won't be with him anymore?"

It's been three weeks. And now, I'm turning slightly in bed, grabbing that very pillow you slept on. I put it to my face and inhale. It still smells like your shampoo-nothing special, just head and shoulders. It's about noon right now, and a little bit of light is showing through the blinds that the curtains don't quite cover. The lights are off and I'm just lying here. Thinking of you.

Besides lying in bed, that's all I really do anymore too.

At these times, I can't help but wonder. Oh, hell-all I ever do is wonder. Why? Was it something I could've prevented? Was it me in general? Was there someone else?

We were together eight months. Eight months that felt like twelve years. Together all the time, we were best friends as well as lovers. Sure, we both still had our individual groups of friends that we would occasionally hang out with. But it didn't compare to how close we were.

Was it all a lie?

I've been ignoring all calls. Waiting until it gets to the answering machine before deciding if it's important. Listening to the message we recorded is so painful. I want to erase it. But besides my memories, it's the only reminder I have of your voice, the only proof I have that you ever really existed.

"Uhm, hi, this," Giggling. "heh heh, this is Bob, and, uh-" "HEY!" "...Okay, Gerard too, and uh, I'm," More giggling. "Erm,we're not here right now. Sooo, uhh, leave a message I guess, and-STOP IT GEE!-we'll uhh, get back to you!" There was more giggling in the background.

The majority of my messages were from friends, concerned. Now, as the answering machine clicked on again and began playing our message, it was my mother.

"Bob. You have to answer sometime. Please, just talk to me. Please, Bob. I'm worried about you. John called, he told me everything. I'm sorry. But please just answer. I want to know you're alive, and okay."

I'm not.