#1.18.15

All the people I've been with since May have only been distractions. It's kind of a weird feeling. Until recently I didn't believe in the one true love thing. But I honestly don't think there will ever be another who is wrapped in my soul in such a way as you are. I don't know what to do. I really don't see any point in continuing now that you're gone. I know there is more to life. But when every single part of "more", music, food, long drives, the ocean, babies, art, friendships, animals, farms, wind, etc. reminds me of you, it just seems really pointless. Everything only serves as a distraction. When I think of horses, or motorcycles, or red wine, or sidewalks or any small or large thing, in the back of my mind is constantly the echo of "john would love this, john would hate this, john would think that was hilarious, I wish john were here to smoke this cigarette with me, Johns eyes would light up about that, that song would drive john wild, I wonder what john would think about that..." And it just goes on and on and on and it's always painful. Not always in a big way, sometimes there is solace in the pain, or the pain is quiet and even familiar at this point. But always; pain. And what do I have to look forward to? The ebbing of that pain? I don't really want it to go away, because it's sort of the very last thing that remains of your entity. For me you have become the pain of your loss, but I am so intertwined with you, that I never ever want that pain to stop, even though it is almost unbearable. I visited your grave today and it hurt so much and it always hurts and I dreamt about you last night and I held you and we both wept and you were smaller than me almost as a child. You were skin and bones, as you always were. You were exactly as you were in reality. The way you spoke and carried yourself and the way you held me was the same and I sort of thought that the memories of those details had faded, but I remember you exactly and I remember just how our bodies fit together and just how you held me and every distinction in your voice and the depth of your eyes and the way your face felt against mine and your hands in my hair. I remember every single bit of it distinctly.