The rose and the sunflower.
The girl with the golden eyes and the boy with a golden heart.
The girl that believed love was just a fairytale and the boy that believed fairytales are just stories waiting to come true.
'I used to think love was a point...
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TW: panic attack
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Grief.
There are so many different ways people handle grief. Some of them are perfectly fine with handling grief; others not so much. I am apparently one of those people.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't move into her house.
Not yet.
Emma is currently out somewhere while I decided to stay at home, again, just like I have for the past two weeks. I can't bring myself to actually leave the confines of my room unless I absolutely have to. The white ceilings seem to suddenly be so interesting as I've been staring at them none stop.
I can tell Emma is worried about me. When she first got here, I did everything in my power to push her away because I've just been so angry. Not only have I been trying to push her away, but I've been pushing the boys away too. Although, none of them have been letting me go down that road completely.
The last three days Emma has left me alone and I am nothing but grateful for that. I really need to gather my thoughts before I can talk to her again without pointlessly snapping at her for simply caring about my well-being.
Today, as I stare up at the ceiling once again in complete silence, I wait for Emma to get back home. I need to talk to someone about everything that has been consuming my mind for the last few weeks. I don't think my anxiety has ever been this bad either. I'm on the verge of having an attack and I'm just waiting for it to happen soon.
If I had gone to pick her up.. maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe she'd still be alive. I should have just insisted I pick her up.
I can't help but blame myself for my aunt's death and I have absolutely no clue why.
I lay on the floor in my living room but the silence is disrupted by the door opening and closing again. I sit up quickly and see Emma walk in and immediately halt her steps once she sees me on the floor.
Her features soften before she speaks. "Hey.."
"Hi." I get up off the floor now. "C- can we talk?"
Emma seems to be shocked at my request since I've probably spoken less than ten words to her in the last couple of weeks. "Of course."
I sit on the couch now, Emma following as well and sitting right next to me. I don't look at her in fear that the minute I make eye contact, I'll break.
"Do you think it was my fault?" is the first thing I ask. Emma looks more than stunned by my words.
"Think that what was your fault?" she says and I look at her now. I can feel all the feelings I've been holding in for what seems like forever all start to come forward.
