sorry i called in sick from your funeral.
instead i locked myself in the bathroom, i couldn’t stop punching the mirror even after my hands began to bleed. / instead i locked myself in the bathroom and watched as the bathtub overflowed. the water under my feet didn’t ease my pain as i wished it would’ve. / instead i locked myself in the bathroom and sat on the cold tiles. i tried to convince myself that it wasn’t getting bad again. but i don’t have faith in anything, especially not myself, so it’s hard to decide if i was right or not. / instead i locked myself in the bathroom and clung to the toilet all night, hoping that my body might spit something out to bring you back. / instead i locked myself in the bathroom and stood underneath the pour of the shower head. i thought it could’ve been a beacon calling you home, but you didn’t answer. / instead i locked myself in the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out how much of my face was you and how much was her. there’s more of you than her, i think that’s worse.
i am alone in my body. i’m unsure of its use, i don’t know how to use it anymore. well, unless you’re around.
i linger in the rooms of our home waiting for you to reappear as if nothing has changed. (why won’t time stand still for us? after everything, it’s what we deserved.) i linger alone in my life. at some point, it might’ve been handed to me, but my hands have always been shaky. i think i dropped it. my life was handed to me and i let it slip through every crack in my body.
where did you go? why didn’t i follow? (can i still?) why did i stay? i hate you for leaving me alone with all this sadness; there’s a bigger word for it, but my soul is breaking into pieces and it’s all i can focus on. i hate you for knowing what you’d leave me with; as if you hadn’t already suffered from the same hands. unfortunately, i love you just as much… if not more (and it is more because i’ve never been one to keep things small). i’d plead for you to come back, at least i should’ve. but i settled for bitter, threat-filled arguments because negative attention is infinitely better than no attention at all. you never asked how it is without you there in that home, and i never told you, but i really would have liked it if you asked. i’m a lot angrier now, the angriest i’ve been in a long time. some of it is directed towards you, even though despite everything, i wish it wasn’t.
sorry i called in sick to your funeral. instead i locked myself in the bathroom, because i know i would have followed you into the grave.