Letter to the ones I miss
I go every day bordering on good and almost content with my life, but then something comes and reminds me of you. And I watch myself flip a little further down the black hole of grief that is a haze, following me around. I liken it to my shadow because it never really leaves. But every once in a while, I'm able to feel normal. To feel okay. Like the wave around me has given me respite to breathe.
Yesterday, I stumbled on the picture you took that night that you pulled your craziest stunt ever, and it reminded me of simpler times. Laying on the floor and watching the stars in silence, and somehow understanding each heartbeat. Scheduling horror movies to be seen on a weekly basis, and so I came to look forward to Wednesday nights. it’s funny how I never really remember you all, but I do.
I miss you more than I remember you.
When I stare, lost in thoughts, I’m asked what the issue is. Most times, I never really know, but I do know what causes the grief, and the overwhelming ache is the remembrance. Remembering in itself is a curse, but I am grateful for the gift of memories and keepsakes. It’s why I keep everything. I hoard them in a little storage in my heart and throw the key away. That’s why I pay the price of a constant chest pain.
On most days, I struggle to remember your name. That’s funny, right? But yeah, I struggle to remember your name. I remember the conversations, though. The hope. The naive assurance that not a single world existed outside of ours. But I’ve learned in a hard way that there are so many worlds out there that are waiting for you. Whatever unlocks next depends on your decision, and that’s the matrix.
That Westlife’s song you taught me lives rent-free in my head, but I don’t know where you are. Sometimes, it’s easier to accept that you’re dead than that you’re there out there somewhere, and time is ticking with us apart. I say I wouldn’t live long enough, but I sing the song always and now love the artiste. I’m sure you wouldn’t have thought anything of that song when you taught me, but it’s been my favourite memory.
Some nights, I sit in the middle of my room, and it all comes to me. The memories appear in images, and that’s what makes it harder to ever really forget. I do something or see something, and bam: flash! I see everyone and everything, and it overwhelms me, but somehow, it stops in my head. It never reflects on how I’m able to put myself together, and I wonder if that’s the mystery or truth of it. Those memories keep you going eventually, and that’s why we are still here. Regardless.
But they are painful. Mostly.
A lifetime has passed, and I’m only just 20. I remember more than I care to admit, and when I don’t, they show up in my dreams. In my thoughts. I can never run fast enough. I feel like my life — save my physical body — has been dragged on a 5 mile-long rail track, yet I don’t really remember any of it. The scars are there, the memories ever real, and I feel sad and miss you, but I don’t really remember it. It’s hazy. My life feels like it’s been slipping through the hands of time.
But I’m smarter now, though. So at least you know Rachael became one of those things you projected she would be. I don’t hope we see again because I’ve learned it’s the expectations that kill. But I do hope you’re okay. I hope I get really okay one day and I’m able to look at my life and you all with a certain fondness instead of sadness. And I wish our forever was longer than what we had, but it’s okay too. I guess?
Rachael, x.
