I am dead.
My best friend faded. My family have become strangers to me.
What is left of me now? Nothing.
An empty shell walking around like someone else is controling its monotone actions? Every move I make, every word I say… everything…. it’s a blur. I can’t even tell how many hours, days, or even weeks are passing by.
They just do.
Everything seems to be just the same.
Although… not quite everything…
Every single tear I cry is individual. Unlike the life I am continuing – as if I don’t have a choice.
If I am grieving differently why can’t I change the way I am living now? … If this can be considered living – I could offer many other names for it: suffering, drowning, suffocating,…
Actually, the best word I can find for it is dying.
Memories are haunting me, each stabbing me, making my inner pain all too real.
They won’t ever go away – even though I am already gone.
Yet, I can’t be with you. Our ghost are still seperated by the worlds we are wandering in.
I wish I could hear your voice guiding me through this maze right back into your embrace.