Babe, I much preferred my life when you were in it. When it was our life, together. Everything is so hard. And the pain is getting worse, not better. That’s what they say will happen. They say the second year is harder than the first, and here we are at 4 months and 12 days. Or maybe it was this bad, all along, except the shock covered it up. IDK but this fucking sucks. You killing yourself fucking sucks. I feel so overwhelmed, and like I took too much on. And no one is coming to save me, I will have to save myself. I will have to save Hugo.
The house is a fucking mess. And every time I sit down to get anything done, I can’t focus on it and I think, oh it will be easier to focus if the house is clean but then i look around and dont know where to even start and give up and it’s an ongoing cycle of jumping from task to task without ever completing anything.
I realized, today, that fall is coming. That means flannels. And flannels mean you. I don’t know how I’m going to get through that. I’m going to lose enough weight until I can fit into your flannels, babe. That is the most motivating reason to lose weight that I’ve ever had. But im also so sad, and want ice cream. Why do I keep buying ice cream?
I’m just so incredibly sad. It’s unbearable. But it’s not, i guess…because I’m sitting here, bearing it, but it still is unbearable. I guess it just feels like at any moment I will give up on it. Like at any moment I could throw in the towel because it’s just too fucking hard.
This whole week I’ve just caught myself looking around the apt, still in shock that you aren’t here. Am I in some alternate reality? I don’t want to do this, anymore.
I am not okay. This is not okay. You were not okay.
Babe, you know all those shows we were watching? Carnival Row, The Witcher, There’s Something About Pam (if that’s it, I always got the name wrong), Brooklyn 99, The Boys, Umbrella Academy…how am I ever supposed to watch the Haunting of Hill House ever again? Or the reiterations of it?
Benji sent me the Charterstone board. When I opened it, I got to pretend for a moment that we were back at the beginning. When I would come over your house and sit next to you on the floor and try not to anger the Forever King.
None of this is okay. How do people do this? How do people go on living their lives?
We should have moved to NH. We shouldn’t have come to DC. You would have been happier. We would have been closer to your family. There wouldn’t have been as many bridges to jump off of.
I listen to your voicemails a lot. There aren’t enough of them. I want your voice without the tinny tone that comes out of the phone. I want you flannels with you in them. I want your hand in mine. I want your desk chair with you sitting in it. I need you to come back.
I really feel fucking nuts. It’s literally unbearable, babe.