Baby steps. Tiny tiptoes coming from a grown boy. Pretentious cocksucker looking for a jive shave. Tomorrow is the first day out in a long while, as if the planet just lost its gift of sunshine. And don't mention anything about the sunshine, because there ain't got one when she's gone.
Despite the blunder I'm slowly surviving, finding and inching my way out from the misery. Whatever remained of the memories remain etched in history. Nothing too important, nothing too shabby. Just a pile of sadness waiting to erode, one-by-one because she's gone.
Westminster Pier. Make something happen. Birthdays come and pass. Little memories come and gone. New people, new sadness, new trauma.
I say, "Bring it on."
No. The only cause of euphoria now is slow acceptance for this tragedy. I learnt to love and live the tears and pain. Her face inhibits my soul, and I know, it's really over. It's really fucking over. The hardest button I'd ever had to button. I'll live through this, I must. She did. I'll live through this and drown with a barbell in hand. I'll live through this and never let hope fade. Because that is love and love bless the people. I don't walk alone. Not with others, but two sides of the same coin isn't so bad after practice.
"You made my day," someone indirectly told me. And that was all I needed to hear.