a ramble on mourning the living, being haunted by the past, and numbing the pain with words

tonight my whispers carry 'cross the night air because here I am, again, sitting in the grass, staring at the same sky as you, remembering the midnight conversations by a volleyball court and the ones on the pavement and the ones on brick, and the ones accompanied by the cheap tang of Burnett's and the crisp bubbles of Bold Rock (and both, when we were bold); and the whispers of those conversations can swirl around me all they want, they can try to take over my thoughts and my head and my heart but I have learned how to keep them at bay. I look at the stars and I go about my day and I send my "I miss you"s as they pop up, on their way into the wind, hoping they'll just fade.

But I know they won't. I know, because sometimes, I get them, too. Sometimes I get an 'I miss you' when you must be browsing books; when you must be in the woods, telling trees by their leaves; when you drive past a school, when you play guitar and feel my fingers guiding yours, teaching you each chord, hear my voice tuning each string, humming the songs I sing along to daily. Just as I send you mine, when 8 see birds pass by and know them by color and song, and I see beautiful wood craftsmanship that someone's worked on; or when I fight with my computer, type in simple lines of code, call IT, do a lath problem, read tech industry news from my phone. Each one of these instances sends a message your direction. It's out of my control. I only hope that you don't mind the misdirection from your primary aims.

it's late and I am fighting sleep. My eyes are barely open, keep on closing, and I don't know that I make sense. But please forgive me, friend. I miss the thing we had. I know we can't go back. I miss the love we shared that was so unique to us. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I will wait a thousand years if that is how long it will take for you to remember that you once told me I was the only person you could and you would ever be able to be safe with.

Thank you for being safe for me. You have no idea. You are one of the few people who knows even part of it, and you have no idea. I will never tell you all of it because despite the fact that I know you and iz Know you're not a violent person, I don't know what you would do to him if you knew. (You know who I mean.)

Fuck. I'm writing to a ghost. You'll never read this. Things will never be the same again. I may have my best friend back but I don't have my soul partner, my missing link. It's difficult explain that. But it's a feeling, it's just.. incorrect. Fuck.

let go. let me go. fucking hell. I can handle this.

*I miss you.*