An Uninvited Guest

The After 'Math'

        I title this entry, "The After 'Math'" because really, what part of it is logical?

        A few weeks passed after Maggie's death. At least I can say it now: Maggie's death.

        Everything was full of tears, and I constantly had pins and needles on my skin. My heart literally hurt-- it seemed to be ripping. Just a little bit every day was all that was needed to break me, and to keep me broken. I'd rather take a bullet to the head any day than experience that feeling, again. It was a thought seriously considered.

        Even time and existence made me. . .sad, I guess. The thought of it, the question of it, confused and upset me so much that I surprised myself. How could I not understand such basic, simple things?

        I had gone through a good many boys throughout my school years, and each time I thought they had broken my heart. They cheated on me, lied to me, they broke my heart. To say they broke my heart now. . . I scoff at having thought I was hurt before Maggie was.

        I got calls, constantly, in the middle of work, with people asking about what happened, and if I was okay. Every time I had to re-explain what happened is every time I re-lived through it, a constant record playing in my head, where it was easy to hit "play" but near impossible to hit "stop". Also, I know they're trying to be nice, but the question: "Are you okay?". . . Frankly, it's insulting. Yes, my daughter died, I'm fine? If I say yes, it's obviously a lie, but if I say no, that creates more problems, and I'm done dealing with those. They're the last thing I need.

        Everywhere I looked I thought of Maggie, everwhere there was some sort of connection to her, even ones crazy and roundabout. I knew but didn't really believe what an integral part of my life she was. 

        I still think of her everywhere I look.

        But eventually the days just passed. That's all they did, they weren't important yet they were there. Everything slowed down, clocks ticked by, you moved because you had to, and life went on as it always had. In retrospect, life went by in an odd sort of fashion, but it was the closest thing to normal. Numbness is a unique thing. I could've sworn I felt emotions still, during that time. Didn't I smile, didn't I cry? And didn't I feel the weight of the world, on my shoulders alone?