Sequel: Snowed In ›
Safety Net
e n d i n g s .
It all began at the end.
To say something so clique, to claim something so universally nauseating, you would think that this would be a common occurrence. But there really isn’t much in support groups or how to guides when dealing with your boyfriend of three years committing suicide.
It had started off as a normal day, except now every detail stands out unlike any other day. The brightness of the sun that almost seems mocking at this point, dropping my keys in the student parking lot, not seeing Jack in the art class that we shared third period. I don’t remember my other classes from high school, but I do remember having art third period because of that day. So much changed, the ground shifted, in the span of one day.
The only thing that I don’t remember from that day is how I got home. There was the sharp news, tug of a knife to the gut, then nothing for hours. There are a lot of things that I want back after that day, including those missing hours.
No matter how many times I tried to claim the opposite, I was mad. I was livid. There was a fire burning and no one to put it out but myself. Everyone disappeared for their own mourning and I can’t exactly blame them, but I could still blame them. I did at the moment, when everything was cloudy gray and I spent way too many nights with a bottle of wine and Friends reruns playing in the background as I downed a bag of chips with the ferocity of a vampire with its prey.
I can’t say the same now. It’s been over four years and, though there is this consistent feeling of a grated hole in my heart, I have learned to get out of bed and feed the cats and water the plants and even remember the date on the calendar. Life has moved on and I’m trying to catch up.
All I can say to anyone who asks is that I’m honestly trying.
To say something so clique, to claim something so universally nauseating, you would think that this would be a common occurrence. But there really isn’t much in support groups or how to guides when dealing with your boyfriend of three years committing suicide.
It had started off as a normal day, except now every detail stands out unlike any other day. The brightness of the sun that almost seems mocking at this point, dropping my keys in the student parking lot, not seeing Jack in the art class that we shared third period. I don’t remember my other classes from high school, but I do remember having art third period because of that day. So much changed, the ground shifted, in the span of one day.
The only thing that I don’t remember from that day is how I got home. There was the sharp news, tug of a knife to the gut, then nothing for hours. There are a lot of things that I want back after that day, including those missing hours.
No matter how many times I tried to claim the opposite, I was mad. I was livid. There was a fire burning and no one to put it out but myself. Everyone disappeared for their own mourning and I can’t exactly blame them, but I could still blame them. I did at the moment, when everything was cloudy gray and I spent way too many nights with a bottle of wine and Friends reruns playing in the background as I downed a bag of chips with the ferocity of a vampire with its prey.
I can’t say the same now. It’s been over four years and, though there is this consistent feeling of a grated hole in my heart, I have learned to get out of bed and feed the cats and water the plants and even remember the date on the calendar. Life has moved on and I’m trying to catch up.
All I can say to anyone who asks is that I’m honestly trying.
♠ ♠ ♠
It's been a while since I've written anything. I'm trying.