Two Eyes Down: Nearsighted

Epoligue

The drive was a short and windy one from the shack of a house I sleep in when I'm down south. I bounce back and forth between here and L.A. for time with unofficial family and some 'god damn piece and quiet' as Demi would say. My car smelled of roses, wet dog and old memories with people I used to know. The gray TEXAS sweatshirt in the backseat is Demi's, folded like our time together in neat, curved sections. When I went to her house, Diana said I could take whatever I like. Unfortunately I was only able to grab that one piece of clothing before I went into a breakdown of sobbing and migraine calling mental shut down. Every time I saw her I'd lose my mind. The constant assault of memories bombarded my mind and I collapsed every time; sacrificing myself, praying to God to have mercy on me. She believed in Him, and any connection to her is like a whiff of her perfume. I couldn't go to the grocery store because all the tabloids had her face with stories that don't match the facts. Some said it was drugs, some said it was a spiral into a fatal depression, some even said it was me. Despite all the differences in what they think went down, they all had Demi's face as the main picture, and every one of them neglected the positivity and light she had. They found an angle where no one could connect the freckles on her face to see who she really was or what she really meant.

I pulled into the cemetery slowly and drove to the back corner, where I know she will lie. When I get to her headstone, which is surrounded by gifts from family, friends, and fans, I look over myself in the overhead mirror as if I had a date with the dead. The bags under my eyes eventually faded away after long months of restless sleep and panic attacks; and my color came back after all but hiding under a rock for months at a time. I was so lonesome I could die until I found Sydney. Ever since then, he's been the light at the end of the tunnel. Waking up to his furry, black face and little paws keeps me sane.

I got out of the car with the roses. The overcast sky loomed over me for the dusk of the day in Dallas as I walked to her headstone and placed the roses gently in front of it; in between a family photo and Nick Jonas's daughter, Hailey. I then sat on the ground in front of her, resting my head again Brian Walters's resting place. I give him a daisy once in a while to thank him for his service.

"Hey Demi. Sorry it's been so long." I said, pausing so the wind could speak for her. I looked wearily at her headstone, imagining her before the end, when she was happy. I thought of her smiling face, her warm mien, and every little detail that made her who she was. She would have been thirty three today. I know she wouldn't look the same. She would have matured mentally and physically. Maybe she would have had children. Maybe they would have even been with me. "I miss you, Dems. Every day. No matter how much time passes, I still feel like I'm breathing underwater. I umm.. got you this. I know it's a little late and you don't really have fingers but I saw it and figured, since we never really split, maybe you'd like it". I laughed humorlessly. Talking to this stone stresses me out more than how much time has passed. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the box, fiddling with it for a moment before opening towards her. "Will you marry me?". The pressure behind my eyes was always something I pulled down and swallowed like a pill, a medication to tame an incurable illness: longing. This time it was already high in my head and flowing to push through every exit it had. I hung my head, closing the box and letting Brian bear the weight of my sobs on his granite resting place.

Demi wouldn't want me to cry. I know she would tell me I'm stronger than this. I also know that for the last ten years, the absence of her next to me has haunted me. I came home one night after visiting Dylan during one of his stints at the hospital and noticed every picture with me in it was put on its face. I didn't know how long it was like that. I am a victim of my own haunting. When I'm not here with her beneath me, I only see the hospital Demi. Pale, cold, lifeless Demetria stares into my soul and tears it apart with her nimble fingers and fancy nails.