cool » l. hemmings

xxxvii.

Do you know what's absolute bullshit? Every time my life -- my family's life, seems to be getting so much better and feeling so much happier and just all around the greatest its ever been, everything comes back to reality and everything fucking sucks again. Every single time. And this time it wasn't even for a mere seven days before everything decided to hit me in the gut again. But this time, this time was completely different.

I lost my brother and I can't blame this on anyone but myself. No matter how hard I try to act like there's nothing I could've done, there's so much that I could've. And now Grady is gone and I feel like every time I try to stand up -- every time I try to breathe -- everything is caving in. Summer is supposed to be filled with bright, memorable moments that stick with you forever. All I've gotten this summer is a miserable, unfortunately undo-able moment and it's most certainly going to stick with me forever.

"Michelle, babe, you need to get up at some point," I heard Luke mumble, his arm loosely around my waist and his head in the crook of my neck.

"Can't we stay in bed all day?" This is how it's been. I have no motivation now that I don't have Grady around to reassure me that there's a reason to actually have it.

"We did that yesterday," he sighed. He was probably annoyed. I wouldn't blame him, I've been acting completely lifeless for the past three days and it was hard for even my mother to not get annoyed with me, even if she was the exact same way.

"No, I did that yesterday. We didn't," I defended, attempting to just lay here with him. I think that would get me in at least the slightest, tiniest bit more comfortable and content mood. Being with Luke, no matter the situation, was always like that. I was hoping that, with the situation I'm faced with now, the same affect would still be of use.

"Michelle," Luke groaned and tried pulling on my arm to get me out of bed.

"Where's my mom?" was all I replied with. I really wanted to know; these past three days were filled with her trying to get me in a better mindset, and me, being incredibly and blindly selfish, allowed myself to ignore the fact that she needed help, too. She lost her own creation, someone who looked to her to be taken care of and raised and shaped into who he wanted to be. My mom probably felt even worse than I did and that was hard to even think about.

"I don't know."

I tried to stop myself -- I really did, but I was nowhere near close to being used to not having my brother around and the question had become such a habit that I couldn't help asking it again. "Where's--"

Luke's chin was on the top of my head as he pulled me closer, "Don't do that to yourself." I've asked the question twice before. Luke gave me a long speech the first time and the second time he did exactly what he was doing now; he stopped me before I could let it effect me.

"It's kind of hard not to," I grumbled. My head was still laying in my pillow, blocking out any sunlight that may come in because of the morning going by.

"Do you want to know something?"

"Not really."

"Your brother absolutely loved you, Michelle," Luke cracked a small smile, seeing my head turn from the pillow to look at him. "The friendship between you two was the greatest thing I've ever seen. There's no way this is your fault. We both know Grady was -- is too nice to let you believe it. So I'm not going to let you."

"Everything that's ever happened with Grady is my fault," I ran my hands over my tired and swollen eyes, "He lost his hearing because of me and if he hadn't of done that, he would still be here making stupid jokes and being stupid."

He moved his head to my shoulder before leaving a small kiss on it. "You don't know that. I was there, too. If you're blaming yourself simply because you were there, then I'd blame myself."

"You tried to help."

"And so did you, Michelle. It's not your fault."

"His birthday is in two days. Two days," a dry, pitiful laugh escaped and I could feel Luke let go of me and bring his hands to cup the sides of my face and make me look at him. He scanned my face, most likely to see any signs of crying. I haven't cried since that day. I couldn't bring myself to, all I could do was stare at nothing and think about everything. My life has never been completely solidified, and I'm certain that it never will be, but it was all finally starting to make sense to me just what life was. I know life is full of heartache and heartbreak, sickness and health, ups and downs and everything in between -- I was just too selfish to believe anything so horrible would ever happen to me.

"And we're going to celebrate it like we were when he was here," Luke said, never taking his eyes off of mine and leaving the reassuring smile on his lips as he comforted me.

"I don't understand how, Luke. His birthday is for him to celebrate with us, not just us celebrating it." To me, a birthday is nothing without the person who was supposed to be the one actually appreciating it. With that person gone, it's not a birthday. It's a day that someone we love who can never have another birthday, has a pointless one. How old are they now? The same age. Forever. And that's sad to think about.

You never really understand until it happens to you. Suffering, I mean. That's why when you have a friend who's been crying over how their family member has cancer, something you've never experienced, you can't say the expected, "Oh, I understand. It's going to be okay," because you don't understand. Never fully, we never comprehend much unless it's shoved into our brains.

Like death. Death was unexpectedly forced into my brain as something I never even thought about happening to anyone close to me (as naive as that is), much less my younger brother. Death scares me. I don't want to die -- well, I mean, I've thought about it before, but I'm sure I'm too much of a coward to do anything about it. I don't want to be the one to cut my own life short, no matter how much more control that would give me over my existence, because I'd be ending a journey full of things that have yet to be discovered.

"I'm taking you to our cliche little spot, and we're just going to talk. About Grady, about anything," Luke said, "tell me about what you guys did when you were younger. Anything you want, Michelle." I still lay quietly, having an internal conflict on whether or not it's true that talking about the past helps with grieving.

But I also know about the five stages of grieving, and right now I was feeling pretty much all of them at once. Talking about things would only hurt to hear and I don't want to hurt anymore.

------

THROwS SELf IN GA rbAGE dISPOSAl IM SO SOrry

the ending is awkward and trash bc ya girl cj has been hit so hard by the writers block train i feel like i haven't talked to you cuties in centuries

song; drown (acoustic bmth cover) by austin jones