It’s been one year exactly. At this time a year ago, I was lying in bed fresh from the news of her death. It hadn’t sunk in yet. I still remember thinking and saying over and over again It can’t be true. I must have misheard. I’ll be in school tomorrow and everything will be alright. Funnily (or perhaps not), I still don’t think I completely believe it. There are days when I can hear her particular shade of high pitched squealing, and days when I can hear her breathing (or heaving I suppose, She wasn’t the greatest at physical exercise. Hey I’m grieving, not blind). It should be weird but it isn’t. We don’t appreciate the tiny sounds and the invisible details until they’re all we have left. So yes, I can remember the sound of her breathing.
I have spent the better part of a year intentionally pushing everything down. Feelings? Push it down. Memories? Hide them. Tears? Bury them in the ground. I can’t be breaking down every time something reminds me of her, and good lord so many things do. But I suppose it’s only respectful to deal with the barrage of emotion on the day of her death anniversary of all days. It feels like I’m drowning all over again, just like I was 365 days ago.
I keep thinking back to the last time I saw her, 3 whole days before she jumped. I didn’t say goodbye. I was in a rush, I was tired, I was gonna see her on Monday aaanyway. I really thought I was, and I abandoned her on Friday afternoon without a second thought. I was stupid.
I think about the last text she ever got from me. “Where are you hun? You alright?” It’s probably still on her phone- the one that ceased to exist when she did. It’s probably in a drawer in her home somewhere, but it is as dead as she is and she never saw that text. I was too late.
I think about our last day out, which was really a day in. We marathoned Marvel movies, we took ugly (okay, fugly) selfies to send our friend, we talked and we talked and we ate ginormous pizzas and everything was perfect. I was oblivious.
Everything I did leading up to that precise moment, that moment when the stone hit the pond and rippled eternally, makes me feel guilty. Like a rusted knife is being twisted into my chest, over and over and over and I can do nothing about it because the hand twisting it is my own. I know the guilt won’t leave me. I have come to terms with it, more than I’ve come to terms with her death in fact. I hope that guilt will make me better, will make me think about how people feel, will make me tread lighter and appreciate more.
Of course, I can appreciate the good times. There were tons of them. Lovely ones that I tried to keep bright and sunny; Lying about under the humid heat watching movies and talking about religion~ they were truly good content moments in life. I tried my damndest to capture them as they were before hindsight and grief tainted them in the colours of wet pavement, dread and fallen leaves. I couldn’t though, and the memories will now forever be dark and flavoured of espresso shots.
I miss her and all that she is missing. I could be an asshole to think this (most definitely am, in fact) but I can’t shake the feeling that she’d be better off here, with me, laughing. Instead of wherever she is now. She should be here. It was the plan, the plan was to stick together and rant about crap until the world ends. Well, the world is still here and she isn’t and What the fuck do I do with myself now. I feel unbalanced and incomplete, she has ripped parts of me and taken them with her. The parts of me that lip-synced to awful 1D songs, while she cackled away in the mornings, the parts of me that even found out what is the new 1D song because she inevitably would know, the parts that quoted from 30Rock like I was being paid to do so, the parts that ranted about how much Wattpad sucked.
She had no right to leave like she did, and I know she was probably suffering but she should have told me. I know, unrealistic as it sounds, I know I could have helped. We would have been okay, we should have been okay. Instead, I spent the day reading painful fanfiction, and crying at every single one because every bloody goddamn thing is her and more her and all her and it’s just unfair.
I miss you, Priya. It’s not getting easier, and I miss you so much. I’m still miserable on this end of the universe, tell me you’re happier on the other end? Tell me it was worth it, so I can stop crying.