Being Dead (Journal Entry #3)

It was 4 years and 5 days ago.  All I have left of her is a CD that was left in my car.

I remember not liking it at first.  It put me off somehow, but she loved it.  Thinking back now on how I should have tried more of that.  Things that she liked in general really.

I had another dream today where she was there.  Where things were fine and we were together.  Another nightmare upon waking.

Some days are worse than others, but today had a particular sting that made me put that CD into my car’s player and listen to it like a last dying message from a long lost love.

And I liked it.

The guitars and violins and the smooth vocals.  Hell, I loved it.

And it made me think that I had changed.  Perhaps even for the better.

But then I was sad again.  Because I realized I had changed in a way that caught up with who she was at the time.  4 years and 5 days later and I was finally the person she would have liked to have been around.  4 years and 5 days too late.

Now, though I move forward, despite my penchant for alcohol to numb the pain, I find myself in an unsoftened place.  Calloused almost in that I’ve grown seemingly accustomed to the stabbing memories.  To the bleeding feelings.  Not sure if that’s called progress, but it’s all I’ve got.

I’m different now.  Changed.  Too late changed.

But I am.

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