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EIGHT spotify played our song ◀★▶
𝐃ear 𝐊iara 𝐂arrera
Spotify played our song.
I'm not sure if I even heard the lyrics right, they kinda blurred over. And now everything sounds so distant, like it's coming from the other end of a cave. Echoing and just giving me a faint gist of whatever the person's saying. Like ghosts.
I never liked ghost stories. And you didn't either. It's like everything I see reminds me of you. Not you though, the pain. I don't think anyone can say your name anymore without the stabbing pain.
It's like someone ripped a hole in me. Worse, not a hole. A black hole, sucking in all my energy and any shred of me left, I'm not even hanging on anymore, I'm falling forever until I get turned into spaghetti.
My old man tried to check on me. I couldn't talk. I just nodded a lot. He's got a new dog at the police station, Bucko or something. A German Sheppard, black collar, and amber eyes. He talked about dog training, about how dogs sniff out illegal substances, they actually think they're looking for their favorite toy, associating the smells with it.
I guess I'm doing that too, without illegal substances. I associate everything with you now, I showed you everything I had, I gave it to you, and we made it ours. I can't even listen to my favorite songs without thinking of us.
The old man left though, even if it made me feel better for a bit. Imagining him and Peterkins trying to get a dog to work on a case while he's drooling after doughnuts. Maybe the dog could help find Big John.
And then Big John reminded me of John B, and then of you.
My father can't even talk about his dogs. My mind is officially a minefield of memories with Kiara Carrera, and I wish it would stop hurting so much. If you'd be dead, would it hurt this much...?
I've got blank spaces in my mind now. I used to have different things I kept thinking off, my friends, singing, cute puppies, the beach, stars. But now everything reminds me of you. You've taken everything from me.
Except for depression, that's the only thing you gave me.
