"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
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Green leaves shriveled and turned to brown, falling from the trees to land in clumps on the ground only to be crushed by the wheels of a child riding his bike to school. Blue skies turned permanently gray save for a few rare days where there wasn't rain and fog. Summer storms lessened as each month passed by, replaced with chilled winds and short days, rain appearing rarely, but gray skies seeming to be permanent.
Kites, sandals, and swimsuits were soon phased out of stores and candy, costumes, and pumpkins were phased in. The most overplayed song on the radio is no longer Cheerleader but an iconic classic found within Michael Jackson's Thriller.
The streets during the day are quiet, no longer plagued by ice cream trucks and children free from school, because with the chilly month of October coming to its end, students have been back in prison for months now, but not me. I guess you could call me a college dropout, but with everything going on, I really had no plans of going. That's what a gap year can do to a person I guess.
Each day blurred together, starting out dreadfully slow.
June was the most antagonizing month of my life. The sun would rise and set, but my eyes would never close, forming deep purple circles beneath them. If I was lucky, my growling stomach would push me to leave the bed only to immediately hop back in with only a bowl of cereal to quell the hunger. Nothing could hold my attention except the walls that held so many pictures of her. If I concentrated enough, I could pretend Mom's death was all just a terrible nightmare and she'd be home soon.
One night in mid-June, I couldn't sleep like most, but this night was accompanied by an intense need to be with her, so I ran from the bed in a crying haze and fell to the floor of her closet where the note was still ripped to pieces. I remember siting there for hours with tears flooding down my face, sobs making it hard to breathe as I tried in vain to piece it back together.
Denial sucks.
By July, things started to get better. My brain was slowly following the steps of coping with a loss, transitioning from denial to anger. I was angry with myself and the entire world, trying to find more than just myself to blame, but came up empty handed.
As the days started to fly by, my depression faded into acceptance that this is my life now, but the blame resting on my shoulders is still massive.
I know she wouldn't want me to live like this. Jane wouldn't want me to suffer underneath the magnifying glass I've placed myself under to inspect every little thing I've ever done that could have lead to her not telling me she had cancer- that she was dying. For awhile, I tried to shift the blame to her, but there was no point. I only did that to spare my own guilt, but by August, my outlook finally started to change.
I started writing again.
I picked up my book, ignored the fact that I needed to sell the house, and transformed into a hermit- well, a productive hermit, because let's be honest, I've been a hermit for months.
