Very briefly, at the end of the day, when I’m tired enough I think I’ll sleep, and I’m as “up” as I get, just because I know I’ve made it through another day, and it hasn’t yet started all over again…
…and I’m sifting through Deezer, looking for some tracks I’ve thought of, that I’d like to have played at his funeral, having spent a couple of hours talking to his mum about plans and arrangements. How the fuck is this even a thing?
I know you’re not here, and you’re not listening, and you never will be. But I love you so fucking much, and I miss you so fucking much, and I didn’t know it was possible to hurt this much, and to be so lost, and so broken, and so numb, and so fragile, and so…so many things, so much, so much all at the same time. The only thing I want in the whole wide world is for you to be back here with me, and that’s never going to happen. There are so many questions, and answers yet to come, and worlds full of what if, and none of them make a blind bit of difference really, because the end result is the same. You’ve gone. You’re never coming back. There’s this fucking massive hole where you were, and it’s inside me and it’s around me and it’s everywhere, and everything is just shit.
And every day I wake up it hits me all over again, and right now I’m tired, and I need to sleep, but I don’t want to, because I know that tomorrow isn’t going to be any better.
My beautiful boy is gone, and everything is broken, and will never be the same again.