I Told The Stars About You

I Want To Apologize

-Andrew-

There's this thing that I feel, I recall it as anxiety, I feel scared and like a deep hole inside of me that doesn't fill even though it's been three months since Dalton's funeral. The emptiness doesn't grow, it hasn't grown much in the past week, sometimes I have good days but there are days where I feel like I've fallen into an endless deep fountain, in the middle of nowhere and where I can't be helped out. I need therapy, I know that for sure.

Sometimes I feel something that I'm deeply afraid of identifying, maybe that's the reason why I don't go to therapy. I can't help but feel this certain...guilt, about it all. Still going strong the burden of being alive instead of Dalton.

I feel like I have to apologize at any minor inconvenience that I cause, if I fail a test or forget to turn in an assignment, the burden of being alive grows more and more, and it makes me think that I'm not worthy of being alive, it all goes back to the beginning, that I should be gone and Dalton be here instead.

I have written certain apology letters, as I like to call them. But when I reread them, they almost seem like a goodbye letter. It's terrifying when I dare to reread them, it's like I do it to myself, I insert the pain myself, it's my fault and no one can stop me. It's only me, myself and I. This time has been so lonely, so dark and cold, I can't remember what it felt like having him beside me, either laying in my lap while he read and I napped, or me laying in his.

I can't remember the warmth, the happiness I once promised myself to store in my memory box. Maybe I took all for granted, took him, and us, for granted. Perhaps it is my fault after all. I try my best to get out of bed in the mornings, it feels cold, and somewhat extremely old, and I'm exhausted.

The days go by and not one day do I get plenty of rest. I dream about him, and can't help but feel sadness inside of me. I wake up and think about him, and I can't help but ball my eyes out, almost yelling into my pillow to not wake my mom up. And after hours of trying to get up, my heart hurts. It almost feels heavy.

Almost every night I spend my night thinking, or I guess grieving, and crying until I finally fall asleep. Sometimes I like to make up scenarios, imagine him being alive, and lie to myself for my own selfish reassurance and say that he's just gone on a trip with his friends on the weekend, or that he's busy taking care of his mother. And that when the calendar hits Monday, I will see him at campus, alive and well, and sometimes when I can get out of bed, I use a heating pad and place it inside a pillow case, inside the pillow; and I hug it until I fall peacefully asleep.

There's times where I get so happy for him, because I imagine him being on the other side of the world, maybe London. And he is doing some master classes about philosophy. And that no matter what we are doing, the stars are always among us both, as something that connects us together. I miss him terribly, I miss him more than I miss myself.

The person I was before all the grief, and trauma, and stupid shit came to me. Did I manifest it? Did the universe have this planned for me all along? Did the stars? The Moon? Do I deserve this?

...

Right now, I am sitting at the dining table, a plate of fresh sunny side up eggs on a plate, and a glass of orange juice at the side. I can't eat, I would usually feel a bubbling feeling inside my stomach, only begging me to take a bite of my breakfast; I loved breakfast. I feel nothing, the feeling of numbness is so much that I don't even have the will, or the strength, or the appetite to grab the fork.

I'm becoming useless. I can't even eat my food, drink water, or sleep. I can't do anything any human could. Sometimes my mind wanders to what would Dalton think about all this, what would he say to me, the things he would do to help, how he would feel.