Mary Without Sound

8. Bury Me In Memories

This therapy thing is getting ridiculous.

Weeks and weeks have gone by and he’s frustrated because I still haven’t said a word.

If I were speaking to Justin, I’d tell him what a waste this has been.

I can hardly help but smile right now, though; my last session is just ending.

I shake hands with the therapist before I leave, and he still looks flustered.

I can’t say it’s helped or hurt either way, but I’m glad to be done.

But they never had anything to worry about in the first place.

Besides, my suicide attempts are so two months ago.

If I really wanted to, I could pack up this afternoon and catch an overnight bus back to Chicago.

Justin and Matt wouldn’t even figure it out until it was too late.

I could disappear in a matter of hours, and they simply wouldn’t know how to find me.

But I won’t.

I’m comfortable here.

For now.

I stop by the cemetery after therapy, to say hi to my brother, since the weather isn’t that bad.

I don’t cry when I get there.

I haven’t cried in almost as long as I haven’t spoken.

It’s the stubborn part of me, mainly.

Crying makes me look weak, and speaking shows I maybe care enough to say something that might actually matter to someone.

And I’ve tried so hard to appear the opposite.

Neither of which have helped me in the long run anyway.

I don’t cry, even though part of me kind of wants to.

I don’t talk to him, either, since I’d just feel like an idiot talking to his tombstone anyway.

Instead, I l stand there for a little while then decide to leave.

I’d have brought flowers or something, but I hadn’t planned coming here.

It’s Wednesday morning.

There’s no one else here.

Figures.

I could go anywhere, and I choose the one place that has the potential to make me feel more alone than anywhere else.

And I’m getting pretty fucking sick of silence.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Dear Mary,

I’m pretty excited to come home.

I mean, I love tour, but things have been a little hectic with me lately.

Maybe I’ll explain when I get home.

Maybe you’ll understand.

Maybe you’re not even reading these, and I just wasted all those stamps.

Anyway, I’ll see you soon.

- Matt

p.s. Don’t reply if you miss me.