Empty Words

:2:

Grief. I can feel that word though its meaning was thrown in his abyss with him. Do you feel grief? I can feel it. You do not only feel it emotionally and physically, it is not only the water that pricks at your eyes, but you can feel it mentally. The way you think every morning, knowing more light in the world was burned out into darkness, it's not a graced feeling. It makes you want to rip your hair out and feel the pain and agony. I want to feel it all burn.

You think the words I type mean anything? You think though empty, they say something? They don't. Meaning, it is not what I am writing. What am I writing? It seems you will find out what is waiting. A plot twist. Do you understand yet? 

When he took his light away, when he turned his own switch off, maybe he realized he was the only one controlling himself. It wasn't the world that did it. It was him. But then why can I not control myself? Why when I try to be sane do I get distracted at the thought of him? Maybe his light kept me sane because I'm afraid of the dark, but now that he turned his switch off, the darkness is consuming me. My phobia is making me feel grief. 

Do the rest miss him? No. Their words may be more empty than mine. At least I have the glass, even if the beverage inside of it is gone. It seems he drank all of it. They leave their speeches at the funeral, but their words, unlike mine, are scripted. People who didn't care while his light was on attend, they only feel bad when they let him burnout. People don't care, people don't want to care, they want to live. 

Well, most humans want to live, anyway.

It seems we're all born with a potential to kill, hurt, destroy, hate, and turn off our own switch. Some are lucky to do nearly none of those, but him, he only did these to himself. He took his own grief out on himself. Why do the best people hurt themselves in more than one way? Because they're the nicest, most humble people I suppose.

I tried to catch his light, I tried to save his watts, and I couldn't stop him from turning off his goddamn switch. 

WHY DID HE HAVE TO TURN OFF HIS FUCKING SWITCH?

griefgriefgriefgriefgrief, but after so much of it, the word becomes empty like the rest.

They tell me it's not my fault, but I still feel the burden. I still feel his grief that he left when he shut himself off. The darkness leaves behind pieces of its light. And light burns, does it not?

But there's still three words left to decipher that he left no meaning:

One, tomorrow. Two, love. Three, death.