Just like the day you were taken away from the world, it didn't sync in until days after. Every year since, this December day goes by with nothing more than a heavy heart. But, as most things these days, it takes 24-48 business hours for the real pain to stab. Next thing I know, I lay in bed helplessly carving my nails into a pillow and drowning myself in memories. Every little thing you said, every tiny gesture you did in good faith, every small lesson you taught me with your example, it all suffocates me, as I no longer can hear your voice.
I can feel my lungs deteriorating with every movement of my lips as the smoke goes out into the thin air of another December night. With every cell dying, an ounce of anxiety is being blown out and disappears. I feel like a carved pumpkin that was cut open, emptied out spoonful at a time, and left to die with nothing but a beautiful soon-to-be-rotten tattoo of someone's idea of what this life should've been. Is it the end of the world yet? Because I sure as hell don't know how to get through another holiday season.
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