This morning I watched the moon fall silent from the sky, watched the world wake up, warm to the sun's presence. I don't like to fall asleep anymore, I like to force my eyes to remain open because if I do, I don't have to worry about waking up completely alone. I can't stand the penetrating nothingness of a day when you aren't there, no one is, it's just me and I want someone to tell me that the trees aren't the only thing that can comfort me.

I walked today, behind the house to the end of the tree-shrowded path and I knelt in the grass.. and then I layed in the grass and I looked across the tips of each blade, I stared into the endless blue sky and I smiled. You're not alone unless you forget that there is life around you perpetually, the bug crawling across my monitor and the dirt upon my feet. I walked barefoot past the dogs as not to disturb them but it least I got to experience the grass beneath my feet, the way the ground feels almost spongy. You can't feel that in a pair of shoes, you miss the substance, the unreal intense substance that seems to seep in through your feet and subsequently to the rest of your body.

I could have layed there all day in the grass like that had it not been for the presence of other human life. I'm quite sure it's nearly impossible for the average person to comprehend why I would want to hide amongst the three foot tall grass and stare into a day that will start the rest of my life.

T u r n   a 
              d  laugh at the faded fabric
of a life woven from a silhouette photograph paradox of the class clown slapped with an alternate reality through means of intense i n t o x i c a SHUN.

I waited for the tide to turn I hurried up when you were too slow and I laughed when the last tear fell from an eye that eye of an I could have stopped if I hadn't wanted to blind that eye, your eye, with the searing truth. If the world were to explode I'd fall and you'd watch because the last time you cared for anyone with a nameless face doesn't exist.

"I don't want to understand this horror.." - Our Lady Peace

This write-up brought to you by a lack-of-sleep induced haze.
I wake up every morning with my body aching, my eyes shot through with pain ... you knew how physically painful it was for me to wake up. I wince every morning, just from the ache of consciousness. I thought, for a while, that you took that wince personally, that you imagined my inability to wake up without this hurt was because of you.

Did you ever get over that?

I've always awoken this way. A natural born insomniac, I've never (not even in infancy) had a consistant streak of full nights of sleep where I actually rested. I suppose more than two decades of that would prime my body to react badly to awakening.

I told you all of this, I'm sure of it.

I'm still not sure that you really believed me.

Every morning, after the pain, I would reach over and find the curve of your back or the crook of your elbow and just hang on for dear life for the next few minutes.

You anchored me ...

I wake up every morning now in the same way. I still jolt awake, unpleasantly and painfully, every morning. I still have that moment where I feel like I've died. And I still reach out for you ...

But you're not there anymore ...

I miss you.

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