You died a year ago today.
You've been gone for 365 days,
52 weeks.
12 months,
One whole
Long,
Painful,
Exhausting year
You still haunt me, your ghost hovers around in my peripheral vision, reminding me exactly where you would be if you were still here.
Where you should be.
You're somewhere else entirely now, somewhere I can't reach you. Somewhere my words, my thoughts and my love can't penetrate.
You're in a better place now, blissfully unaware while I mourn what once was.
Somehow I always get the short end of this stick.
Somehow, by surviving, I carry the whole weight of my own grief and all the absent emotions of the dead. The hole they left gets filled by my tears and my swelling heart.
You,
Deceitful and elusive you.
Death is an inevitable part of life but the idea that you'd end your own life just to get away from me was more than I could bear.
The fact that you put my fingerprints on the knife and framed me from beyond the grave solidified the hate you have for me in my head.
My hands are cuffed and the freedom I once had has been restrained because of wary ears that believed everything you said.
My freedom to love, my trust, my entire soul. It belonged to you, and that bond was ripped to shreds in an instant.
Your note didn't mention why.
Disdainful words, dripping with frustration and pain fall out of my mouth every time your ghost flickers across my vision.
Your disciples may forever be faced with the aftermath of your actions. The world isn't yours, even if you ignore the parts you don't like.
I hate you, I hate you because I love you and you don't even know what that word means. I hate you because you're still pretending you do in the presence of others who can't help but believe you. And I hate you for haunting, not passing along somewhere I could find my own peace without you.
I'm stuck here in a severed limbo without you, and all the weight of your stupid death is not so slowly crushing me.
Maybe then the blood on my hands will disappear, and maybe then the jury will find you guilty and clear my pitiful name.
But not before it's too late.
