I just randomly forgot that you died over 2 years ago…

So I really miss you.

I don’t know why, but you’ve been coming up constantly!

I was going through my wardrobe, putting clothes away, and I found that dress of yours. And the work pants. You gave them to me in my skinnier days. And all I see in them now, was your happiness and lightness that choose them. Choose them off the rack. No time for trying them on. Probably off the clearance section; you really hated shopping. And you had no attachment to money. Clearance rack it was.

I see you more and more in the clothes that are loaded onto hanging racks. The peasant top, the frills at the bottom, the lace belt. I know you would have loved them. And don’t even get me started the flowers. Or blackness. It really was one or the other. And you looked divine in both.

I miss you SO much.

And I don’t know what it was that I was thinking about when I realised that I needed to talk to you about it. Before I re-remembered all-over-again, that you are gone. Almost two and a half years ago, gone.

And even though you stare at me, with that intense look, from my dining room wall… I can’t bare to look at it. Because somehow that proves that you’re not here. And if I just don’t look at it, then maybe… just maybe… I know it’s stupid.

With this whole job-applying thing… like it’s just more evidence that life moves on without you. And I really don’t want it to. At my last job, they knew who you were. They knew how much I loved you. They knew that you were so much a part of me. And any new job… is just… they won’t know. And how can anyone not know? You were in my top two. You were my second favourite person on the whole entire planet. You were part of the two that were specifically not meant to leave the planet. I needed both of you here, with me. Damn it, I need you.

And everything god-damn sucks right now. Life is so freaking hard. And I just need you, at the end of the phone line, or curled up on the couch with me.

You just weren’t supposed to die.

And if you had to… well this shit was supposed to get easier.

I miss your intense stubbornness, and how passionately you’d stick to your ideas or beliefs… and how I’d tell you facts, actual facts that directly contradicted this passion that you just had… and the switch was so quick. You were just like, “oh” … and that was that.

I miss us art-ing in the same space as you, sprawled out across the floor. And OMG I miss dancing with you! When it was just us. I miss sitting on the beach with you. On Christmas day. On our last Christmas day. Just us. I miss us talking. OMG I would do anything to have a conversation with you again. But like, not one conversation. Every conversation. I want to know what you think about everything.

I want to know what it’s like up there. How was your transition? Do you miss us? What can you see? Do you have my baby up there with you? Because I really miss him too.

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