I Stayed Behind

Twelve

Lines. These are my lines. This is what I tell myself. Lights, camera, action:

I'm getting good at not thinking about you. And it doesn't hurt anymore. Ignoring you doesn't hurt, remembering you doesn't either. I've acknowledged your death, accepted it for the most part. It happened, I can't change it.

Though, breaking character, if I'm being honest, I wish I could change it all. The truth is that I don't think about you that much anymore because all it does is show me how powerless I am. I can't do anything to bring you back and fix you up. I can't do anything about the hole in my chest, I can't talk about it, I can't ask for help. I can't possibly make it easier to understand how you silently slipped away in the night, that you left without so much as a goodbye. I can't forgive you for it either. There's nothing I can do to make this better.

My lines are pointless. Reading the script is pointless. I don't believe it anyway. I'm tired of trying and pretending like everything's fine. So, if you don't mind, I'm not going to talk about you, or to you, or remember that you existed once. I'm not going to think about you because it still hurts and I've told myself it doesn't anymore. I've made myself believe the worst of lies, convinced everyone around me that I'm ok.

I'll finish my act now. I'm telling you now, though know that it's all false:

I've acknowledged your death, accepted it for the most part. It happened, I can't change it. I don't miss you anymore. I can laugh and move on, it doesn't hurt to not be by your side anymore. I'm fine, I'm fine everythinghurtssofuckingmuch, I'm fine.

Do you believe me too?