~ a story ~
I travel down the path, the same one we took that cool October evening, when inexplicably there were still leaves in the trees that rustled in the soft breeze. I step down the path, slowly, intently, and think of you.
The trees are the same. Each pebble of gravel in place. Yet, this place is not the same. Every spot, every bend, each and every moment is missing you.
I cannot take a step without remembering all the places we shared. Where we ate our first picnic. The bench where you told me you loved me, brushed my hair behind my ear, and for the first time kissed me. The patch of grass on which we laid, a soft blanket beneath us, our hands intertwined as we cloud-watched for hours.
My life is not my life without you. My thoughts are not my thoughts. My breaths are not my breaths. My smiles, my laugh, my cries, my sobs. None are mine anymore. You are not mine anymore.
You are gone. You... are gone. How can you be gone? You were just here with me, just walking down this path, just holding my hand, just watching clouds and smiling.
I still wake up and wonder what you've made for breakfast. I still place my key in the lock of of our front door and for a moment hold my breath at the thought of your smile greeting me. I still reach for you at night, still roll towards you, still expect your arms to encircle me, squeezing me tight.
My life is not my life. My home is not my home.
You were my home. You were my partner in life, my pinky swear forever and ever bear. Without you, I have no home. My life is not my life.
Without you, my world is gone.
Dead Pestilence: A Word or Two on Roger Ailes - I hope Roger Ailes died screaming. I hope he felt every sensation of pain from the subdural hematoma he suffered; I hope that the shocks wracked his worn-o...