silversolitaire (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silversolitaire) wrote2002-05-28 09:58 pm
silversolitaire) wrote2002-05-28 09:58 pm
Memories...
It was strange today, getting into the house after knowing he's dead... It's strange... Suddenly I remembered where he put his shows, in those neat little wooden showtrees, where he hung his jacket. I feel strange... I can't cry anymore. I'm feeling rather blank. I don't know... I feel like I shouldn't be smiling just yet. That I shouldn't stop wearing black. Because I am... I wanted to wear black for him. It gives me comfort. But every time I smile I feel guilty. When can I stop? I don't know...
I'm still sad. Very sad... and rather unbelieving. But I can't cry. I went to his room and suddenly his scent is gone. I can't smell his CK one anymore. Before that, I could have sworn it was there... His scent must have left with him.
I see him everywhere now. I put in the Cruel Intentions CD while driving to the U. It was just an idea. As I was listening to it, images of X flooded me. I remembered how we saw the movie together, how the movie stopped in the middle and we sat in the darkness for half an hour, laughing like crazy. I listened to "Color Blind" and of course I thought of him, being color blind himself. In my kitchen, I saw a small pack of cereal, for months forgotten. When he left and gave it to me and said "Every time you see this I was you to remember my face saying: Eat this before it expires!" Needless to say, I didn't. Now I saw the pack and I saw his face...
I'm still so sad. But I can't cry. Not anymore. I'm completely calm... Maybe later.
I want to do something for him. Something... but I don't know what. I want to make sure he won't be forgotten. Something where I can explain all my feelings.
The thing bothering me the most right now are the questions. So many questions. I want to know where it happened. Exactly. And when. The exact time. I want to know what happened to the guy who hit him and killed him. I wanna know what he did when he died, what song was he listening to. What was he wearing? I wanna know if he finally had a boyfriend. I wanna know him... I wanna know how he spent his last days... I will never know all of this. I am excluded...
Two things are bothering me in particular. One is: why didn't he tell me he was going to come back? Why not me? I don't understand this... he would have told me. Why didn't he? Two is: he must have been in a small van he rented to move his stuff. I can only think it all burnt with him. It... hurts me. He always loved his stuff so much. He was so minimalistic. He had those little metal boxes where he always put his stuff in, so neat and tidy. Never a lot, but always treasured. I can't believe this is all gone. What is left then...
I hate how his parents handle it. Apparently, they don't want to bury him yet, just take his ashes and later inter him where they're moving to. For one it bothers me that I can't say goodbye. I want to... I need to. And also, I remember so well when we talked about our funeral. Then, it appeared so strange to me. Like everything else in his life, he had it all perfectly planned out. He said he didn't want to be buried at a certain spot, but he wanted his ashes to be shattered. I so so hope they know this. I can't tell them... I can't speak to them. I just hope they know it. And I have to force myself to remember. This is how he wanted it. He wanted to be remembered without a grave. Somehow I have to come to terms with this.
It's still so unbelievable. It's not me... not him... it's someone else...
I'm still sad. Very sad... and rather unbelieving. But I can't cry. I went to his room and suddenly his scent is gone. I can't smell his CK one anymore. Before that, I could have sworn it was there... His scent must have left with him.
I see him everywhere now. I put in the Cruel Intentions CD while driving to the U. It was just an idea. As I was listening to it, images of X flooded me. I remembered how we saw the movie together, how the movie stopped in the middle and we sat in the darkness for half an hour, laughing like crazy. I listened to "Color Blind" and of course I thought of him, being color blind himself. In my kitchen, I saw a small pack of cereal, for months forgotten. When he left and gave it to me and said "Every time you see this I was you to remember my face saying: Eat this before it expires!" Needless to say, I didn't. Now I saw the pack and I saw his face...
I'm still so sad. But I can't cry. Not anymore. I'm completely calm... Maybe later.
I want to do something for him. Something... but I don't know what. I want to make sure he won't be forgotten. Something where I can explain all my feelings.
The thing bothering me the most right now are the questions. So many questions. I want to know where it happened. Exactly. And when. The exact time. I want to know what happened to the guy who hit him and killed him. I wanna know what he did when he died, what song was he listening to. What was he wearing? I wanna know if he finally had a boyfriend. I wanna know him... I wanna know how he spent his last days... I will never know all of this. I am excluded...
Two things are bothering me in particular. One is: why didn't he tell me he was going to come back? Why not me? I don't understand this... he would have told me. Why didn't he? Two is: he must have been in a small van he rented to move his stuff. I can only think it all burnt with him. It... hurts me. He always loved his stuff so much. He was so minimalistic. He had those little metal boxes where he always put his stuff in, so neat and tidy. Never a lot, but always treasured. I can't believe this is all gone. What is left then...
I hate how his parents handle it. Apparently, they don't want to bury him yet, just take his ashes and later inter him where they're moving to. For one it bothers me that I can't say goodbye. I want to... I need to. And also, I remember so well when we talked about our funeral. Then, it appeared so strange to me. Like everything else in his life, he had it all perfectly planned out. He said he didn't want to be buried at a certain spot, but he wanted his ashes to be shattered. I so so hope they know this. I can't tell them... I can't speak to them. I just hope they know it. And I have to force myself to remember. This is how he wanted it. He wanted to be remembered without a grave. Somehow I have to come to terms with this.
It's still so unbelievable. It's not me... not him... it's someone else...