Almost a week since Lily’s Death and it’s been hard on me, so I’ve buried myself in films and the words of Others and alcohol in order to not drown on my own sadness, a collapsing star with nothing left.
The first couple days were filled with me crying every few hours. Just breaking down, fetally, holding myself because there’s no one else left. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this lonely. To live without her, to be without her.
I hear her every morning coming up the stairs but there’s no one there. And every night’s so empty without her here in my bed.
This house is a mausoleum of all the moments that meant all the world and more to me.
But I push on. Keep walking because what else is there? I can’t even bare my soul to others, tell them how much she means to me or I break down again, and all I have are the tears she used to keep away.
In other news, I need to find a date for New Year’s, which is kind of difficult, if only because I don’t actually know that many people anymore. So it goes.
Reading lots of books, breaking my own heart.
But there are still women and there’s still wine.
Beauty still exists, even if you no longer do.