Status: Slowly getting back in the groove of writing, please bear with me.
Crash
1/1
Shaky hands, uneven steps, leaky eyes, and short breaths. Walking up the aisle seemed to take forever, avoiding the stares from the faceless in the room. My attention was solely on the box sitting front and center. We had always said, it seemed so silly, to want to spend eternity stuck in a box in the ground. He wanted to burn, let his ashes fly with the wind. "Where ever the wind takes me." Seemed to be a favorite quote of his, it was his pat answer, if asked where he was going, what he was doing with his life.
He never really had a set path, some would say he was just a passerby, but not for me. He had always been a constant presence in my life, when my world came crashing down, he was the first come stitch me up at the seams. Maybe that's why it was so hard, walking up the aisle alone, his hand was not in mine. There were few here, as I said, he was just a passerby to most, nothing more than a face in the crowd. There was no chatter, just complete silence, as those wishing to pay respect filtered in and out. For that I was appreciative. He would have wanted it that way, always claiming he hated when people would fuss over him.
Looking down at the face of my best friend, he seemed out of place, at twenty-two, he shouldn't look this old. He appeared as if something had been weighing him down for much too long, dark circles, and frown lines forming around his mouth. I know I probably looked strange, just staring at the face of the one who always seemed so bright. Like nothing could weigh him down, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I only saw what I wished, because he was always much too busy taking care of me, to ever speak of his own problems.
I know he wouldn't have wanted this, but sitting in my room it all felt rather formal, I was in his favorite dress, the one he always said made me look like a lady. I think he'd like that I'm wearing it. Fingering the corners of the letter he left for me. One sentence sticking out to me.
I needed you, he wrote, maybe more than you needed me. But you know what they say, if you love something, let it go. Scrawled under his writing, I wrote one sentence, If it comes back, it was meant to be.
Setting the note on the night stand, so it would be found, I stepped up, allowing my feet to dangle. I was never scared of death, it seemed to me like a light at the end of my tunnel. And as I swung there, my eyes closing, and everything becoming lighter, I see him waiting there for me, my matching wings growing.
He never really had a set path, some would say he was just a passerby, but not for me. He had always been a constant presence in my life, when my world came crashing down, he was the first come stitch me up at the seams. Maybe that's why it was so hard, walking up the aisle alone, his hand was not in mine. There were few here, as I said, he was just a passerby to most, nothing more than a face in the crowd. There was no chatter, just complete silence, as those wishing to pay respect filtered in and out. For that I was appreciative. He would have wanted it that way, always claiming he hated when people would fuss over him.
Looking down at the face of my best friend, he seemed out of place, at twenty-two, he shouldn't look this old. He appeared as if something had been weighing him down for much too long, dark circles, and frown lines forming around his mouth. I know I probably looked strange, just staring at the face of the one who always seemed so bright. Like nothing could weigh him down, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I only saw what I wished, because he was always much too busy taking care of me, to ever speak of his own problems.
I know he wouldn't have wanted this, but sitting in my room it all felt rather formal, I was in his favorite dress, the one he always said made me look like a lady. I think he'd like that I'm wearing it. Fingering the corners of the letter he left for me. One sentence sticking out to me.
I needed you, he wrote, maybe more than you needed me. But you know what they say, if you love something, let it go. Scrawled under his writing, I wrote one sentence, If it comes back, it was meant to be.
Setting the note on the night stand, so it would be found, I stepped up, allowing my feet to dangle. I was never scared of death, it seemed to me like a light at the end of my tunnel. And as I swung there, my eyes closing, and everything becoming lighter, I see him waiting there for me, my matching wings growing.
♠ ♠ ♠
So this may suck, it's the first thing I've written in a little over a year, I'm trying to get back in the swing of things. Any feedback is more than welcome.