new moon → t. caniff

august 4 2014

Monday

It's been about a week. I still have't stopped crying. It's like the more I cry about him, the more I cry because of how fucked up my life is. He was the only person who stayed in my life the longest without leaving, and here he is, on the last for leaving me like everyone else.

Mom tried to get me to eat, but the thought of food has me running to the bathroom. All the foods mom is persuading me to eat are all the foods he cooked and/or always ate when we were on date night: lasagna (surprisingly), hamburgers from our Tuesday Cafe routine, cookie dough ice cream, pancakes, and nutella.

People in town are starting to get worried about me. It's my senior year this year. Last year so many people were saying that Taylor and I were going to win senior Prom King and Queen. Memories from our high school dates and couple moments were the only thing that flooded my mind, swelling more tears. Apparently those in town are downstairs in my living room with various home-cooked meals. The town is kind of a small town, so everyone knew. Everyone knew that me and him were attached by the hip; he took me to all the places one dreams of going to: New York, Las Vegas, LA, and so many more places.

I got dressed for the first time (in clothes that wasn't his sweater or sweats). I actually attempted to look somewhat decent, which was impossible from the bags under my eyes and tear stained cheeks. No one cared, or at least no one pointed them out. The sweet old married couple from next door had made me homemade chocolate ice cream and some fresh squeezed lemonade. My geometry teacher that I was close to brought me a fresh batch of a dozen donuts that were still warm. I got so much comfort food that it will last me for the next couple weeks.

So here I am, back in his old sweatshirt that still had his cologne (that had permitly seeped its way into the fabric for how much he would spray on), some old track shorts, with a blanket draped over my body as I eat donuts and writing with Mr. Deeds playing on my TV screen. I'm still not over him, and I don't I ever will be.