spread awareness of drunk driving.
always have a designated driver.
fly high brianne.
-
"the fear, the fear of falling apart."
panic! at the disco, this is gospel
"the ghost of you, is close to me."
twenty one pilots, goner
"i hear you in the quiet.
i see you when i'm in the dark."
gabbie hanna, out loud
-
everyone's asking if i'm alright.
i'm fine.
i was fine the day johnson told me he was dead.
i was fine the day i put that white rose on his coffin.
as soon as the words left his lips, it was an overwhelming amount of numbness.
i still feel the numbness.
he died last saturday.
it's better than feeling anything.
they put me on a seventy two hour suicide watch. they thought something was wrong with me. i haven't cried.
sometimes there's a few pricks of sadness. but it disappears. my heart doesn't like sadness.
sammy lives with me now.
i suppose nobody trusts me by myself anymore.
i don't know why, though.
i feel fine.
my work gave me two months off. i don't know why. i tried to talk to my boss, eric, but he said to stay home. so did sammy.
johnson moved back to omaha. he didn't say anything to me when he left. it didn't hurt, though. i think he was sad.
so now i just watch the sun set and rise.
sometimes i eat. i don't feel hungry, though. i shower. then i repeat. everyday.
he fell asleep in my arms, saturday morning - the last time i slept more than four hours. he kissed me goodbye, saying he was leaving to hang out at johnson's. that was the last time i seen him.
sunday afternoon, i met fans at a park. they gave me notes, roses and hugs. sam was there. so was maggie. they cried. fans cried. i stayed silent around them.
"did you hear me calling?" sam opens my door, letting a stream of light in through the kitchen. it smells like steak.
"no, sam." i roll onto my side, to look at him.
"come eat dinner."
"okay." i try to sit up, and a pounding that wasn't there before suddenly erupts in my head.
"my head hurts." i acknowledge it, and sammy sighs.
"it's probably because you wouldn't eat breakfast. or lunch."
"but i wasn't hungry."
sammy comes around to the bed, putting an arm around my shoulder, and one under both of my knees.
"you're going to carry me?" i ask, my voice showing no emotion.
"yes."
a look of concentration sweeps over his face, as he picks me up, but then his face turns pale as his lifts me.
