@enduersā Ā Ā , Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā ā Ā are we gonna be okay? Ā ā
you were not the girl that you were when it happened, you werenāt even sure if you were the same girl as last week, sitting on foldable metal in a damp rec centre with coffee that you werenāt sure was even made that same day.Ā Ā Ā your grief has never left you, and you had accepted that. you wash the dishes, you open the curtains, step over the creaks in floorboards that you memorised alongside the cracks in the ceiling.Ā you do not need to be a house to be haunted,Ā Ā haunted by yourself andĀ the ghosts of friendsĀ buried six feet deep.Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā you should have died,Ā Ā everything was planned so that you would die.Ā sometimes, you think you did, Ā Ā and that just nobody had noticed yet.Ā Ā Ā Ā parts of you had died back in lakewood, and you donāt think you will ever get them back.Ā girlhood is abandoned on the very eve of the rest of your life,Ā you had attended too many funerals for your age, wakes for friends,Ā for people that you should not need to mourn but you did.Ā everyone in the room experienced grief, all carried ghosts in their lungs but did not speak to them.Ā you fold into yourself, hands hugging elbows closer to chest as if itāll save you from such intimacy.Ā Ā Ā are we gonna be okay?Ā Ā Ā Ā you asked yourself that everyday, and everyday you told yourself that you had to. that you could not stay in the corner, picking at the wallpaper that you had since you were a child. Ā Ā a house was not a home, not when that is where your suffering started. it grew, uncontrollable, like ivy on the side of the house.Ā it was only so long until it reached inside the window frame and wrapped around your throat.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āĀ Ā Ā Ā Ā i -Ā Ā Ā Ā ...Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā i donāt think we have a choice, adam.Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā i think we have to be,Ā or what else was it all for?Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āĀ Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā sometimes, you trick yourself into thinking it was all a bad dream. when the light filters through the thin curtains of yet another hotel room, and creates a kaleidoscope of colour against the ceiling, and you feel like a kid again, untouched by the kind of grief that tore you from the inside out; and for once, your heart isnāt aching.










