Around 8 pm we were sitting at the top of these bleachers on a hill, watching the baseball game below. Everything felt horrible, but during that time I received a text message, from someone who's important to me despite how little of a time I've known them and how we're still figuring out how the other works as a person, and it made me feel better than anyone closer to me, myself, or my mother could. All I needed was for someone to understand how I feel about at least one aspect of all the weight of different things that I'm going through. I didn't have to say anything, she just knew. She knows my heart is broken and I think those words I read unexpectedly are going to be the beginning of the push to let go of whatever this is and know that the outcome will reveal itself eventually and there's nothing I can do about it until then; Except fight. Fight to be happy, fight to get to the place I want to be, fight to be okay no matter what happens, fight for the friendships with the people I care most about. I'm not ready yet, but eventually.
Eventually because I'm still trying to figure out how to wake up and not feel disappointed. To feel like I can fake it enough for it to become real. Later last night Sascha split a percocet with me. It scares me how good it made me feel. Just a little while ago I picked up a shirt in our laundry room that's been sitting there for a while- I was overwhelmed with his scent. There are some things I just can't handle.
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