Break me

P

December 23, 2013

It's actually the 24th now, but I don't care. Mom, I meant to tell you all about your funeral. Don't think that I forgot about you. I didn't. I really didn't. I just couldn't quite convince myself to do it. Thinking about when you died was so hard.

My family just got done opening our Christmas presents. My little sister gave me this hockey puck, signed by, um...Chris. The story goes that she had one of her little friends in my class get it signed for me, and apparently when he was signing it, he asked if he should put I love you on it. I know he was making fun of me because he didn't like me at all. I know because he didn't talk to me at all that week. He hardly talked to me at all the week before. And he didn't even talk to me at all that last day. But at least he's got a great story to take home about an idiot who had the nerve to like him. I always knew it would happen like that. But...still.

It just came to my realization right there, that I'm never going to see him again. I'm never going to talk to him again. That class is over, and just like you, he's gone. I can forget about him. He's not dead like you, but he's still gone. And that just made me so sad.

And I didn't notice this year that you weren't there, opening presents with us until the end. I did notice, but I'm forgetting. And moving on is good, but I'm missing everything.

And it all makes me sad that I'm missing so much, and I'm getting so sick of it. :(

But at least it was the twenty third, and twenty three is a great number, no matter what people say.