#sirsimon

Sometimes, I used to miss you so much that it was unbearable. It would hit me like an unrelenting wave. It could be out of nowhere, but a lot of the time, it was when we'd be on the phone together. You'd be moving around your room telling me as much as you could about your day or something dumb Johnny did to piss you off. I'd close my eyes and let your voice flow around me. I would convince myself that it didn't have a layer of tin to it, that it was in the room with me, bouncing off the walls. That you were sitting next to me instead of an unknown mileage away. I could convince myself that you were there, Simon. That any moment your arm would fall across my shoulders to pull me into your embrace. I swear to you I felt the pressure of it. That I could feel your warmth.

I was sitting at my cousin's grave today. The sun was shining. The breeze was nice. I was picking at the grass like I always do. My eyes wandered over the graves around her. When they landed on the grave next to it, it no longer had the name Tomas on it, a man who'd died when I was 10. It had your name on it. And then it was on the next one and the next. I was surrounded by your name, your tomb, your death. Every time I close my eyes, the nightmare is there.

You would hate the name I gave this blog, but I couldn't resist. Never should have drank a that much on J's birthday last year. The picture you painted of yourself as a knight fighting on horseback was a little too vivid to have just been a childhood dream. I'll hold that over your head for eternity even if

Sir Simon – Repeat Until Funny (LP) (27.08.2021)