Lately, I’ve had a number of things to distract me. They’re good things, and I’m happy I have them. But I can’t help feeling that I’m ignoring the sadness, rather than dealing with it. And then I counter that argument in my head with the idea that maybe I’m just not dwelling on it, and should go with it.
It’s frustrating, fighting with yourself over things like this. I know in my head that there’s no RIGHT way to do this… that there’s no particular thing I SHOULD be doing. But I can’t help feeling that I’m doing everything wrong.
Last night, it hit me again… or I got far enough away from the distractions to feel it again, or something. And I sobbed. I haven’t done that in a long time, honestly. But I felt it all last night. No repressing, no hiding, no ignoring. And it hurt just as much as it did the days/weeks right after he died.
I’m getting to the point where I believe it will never hurt less. I may be more easily distracted, or more able to suppress it. But the pain is still there, and still just as raw.
Some days, I feel like I’m moving forward. That I’m finding my new normal, and things are going to be ok. Some days. Most days I don’t think about it, intentionally. Because most days, if I think about it, I’m convinced that nothing will ever improve, and I’ll always have this huge gaping hole in my life where my best friend was. No one can ever replace him. No one can ever fill that hole. Most days, I’m sure that the best I can do is throw a trap door over it and just try to ignore the fact that it exists… walk around it… put up a curtain.
So, last night, I cried for my lost friend. For the fact that he will never be there for me again. For the vast hole in my life, my soul, my heart. Last night, I cried.
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