Dying is easy
Originally uploaded by charleebrown.
The tears that is. I’m going to have the infliximab treatment. It’s a mild, crohns’ specific, form of chemo therapy. My hair won’t necessarily fall out, but it might. I’m hoping it doesn’t. I know that’s vein, but it’s part of me. It’s 14 years of me. 14 years ago, everything started going wrong though, so perhaps losing it would be a fresh start. But then again, perhaps I don’t want a fresh start. Perhaps I’d like to turn back time to 14 years ago. When Dario held me in his arms, and told me he loved me. When we went for picnics together, when we held hands, when I was happy. When I was loved. The 29th would be his 25th Birthday. We should be having a big party for him, and yet there will be nothing. This year I cannot lay flowers at his grave, because he no longer has one. Tonight I cradled the last picture of him to my chest, and wished so hard that he would come for me, but nothing.
Why didn’t he stay? Why was he allowed to die? And why am I still here, and not there with him. I want him to hold me again, and tell me he loves me like he used to. I want us to have the life we planned together. And we did. We had it all mapped out. The jobs, the house, the children, all of it. We wanted the same things, we clicked. And now, I’m here, where we planned to be together, alone. My friends are getting married, having children, buying houses. I’m still in the same bedroom I have always had, with nothing but clutter on the side of the bed that shouldn’t be empty.
My room’s mess is a reflection of my life. It’s very quiet right now. And it feels like the world is moving slowly. Almost like it might stop, and you know what, that’d be bliss. I’m not ungrateful for those friends I have, I don’t love them any less, but I so want to be with him, and my babies. And I know I’ve said this over and over, and I know it’s dull and boring, and it’s just me whinning on instead of getting on with it, but I can’t get on with it. I’m weak, I’m sick, and I’m not strong enough to do this alone. I’m not sure I can quite express how I feel in words.
I’m not honestly sure it would help.
I guess I’m still crying out for answers. For help. For someone to be my rock. I need a rock. I need someone to hold me in their arms, and make the world disappear, just long enough for me to regenerate some strength, and some hope. That person, I’m afraid, does not exist, or is not mine to hold. I am nothing but a burden these days. I cause nothing but misery and pain. I cannot help my friends through their struggles. Some won’t even tell me their problems because they feel I have too many of my own. That is not the case. I would love to be of help to someone, to be of use. But alas I am not. I really, honestly, feel, that I should cut my loses, and pack it all in. I’m in debt, I’m ugly, I’m mentally and physically sick, and neither are curable. I’m have desires, that if I fulfilled, would cause so much pain. I don’t want anything anymore, I just want to be at peace.
Please Dario, take me away from here.