The following post is a stream of late night thoughts occupying my sleepless self whilst on holiday in Ibiza visiting some friends in September 2016. I hope it makes for good reading, and perhaps a good cry too.
I stand in front of you and you no longer recognise me. It’s so much harder than I could ever imagine this to be. The thousands of miles of conversations all gone but safely stored to my memory. The time bomb is coming for me again and I’ll never be ready to live without you. My heart tears like cheap paper at the mere thought of losing you. My throat gets so unbelievably tight that I sometimes I think I might swallow the thyroid gland that doesn’t function correctly for me. The cactus has set up home in my throat without ever signing a lease or paying a penny in rent, and I give in so easily that I come to loathe my lack of emotional strength.
In my head I cry hot frequent tears that keep streaming down my face, so incessantly that my skins gets so sore it peels off. I was SO close to freedom from my commitments to education, only to have the carpet of reliability ripped so roughly away from me that my heart has a frame for its piercing and probing burn. One too many a salty tear has left me bitter in my sorrow. I am so angry in my head, I want to scream at the obscenity of my misfortune, even though I know that other people love and care for you just as much as much as I do. I’m angry at myself. Disappointed. I had visions of you reading the blogs I’d told you about and being nervous about what you thought, because your opinion would have mattered most to me. Have I got it in me to read my writings aloud to you? It’s unlikely. Even in my most convincing of fronts I’m also only human. I wanted to craft the perfect piece of prose to convey how much better my life has been for having you in it, for knowing you, for being related to you.
Deep down I think you know all of this, and now I’m suddenly so grateful for the poloroid photos I insisted on being taken at Christmas, despite loathing how I looked at that time in my life. I realise that my pain comes from my fortune- that many people aren’t fortunate enough to have such loving grandparents to form miles of memories with; whether it’s Friday night in front of the TV or day trips out. So whilst I acknowledge that nothing lasts forever, I’ll be sure to create many more moments I can go back and reflect on, forever and always floating around in my bulging memory.
(Title taken from the song ‘If You Only Knew’ by Shinedown, from the album The Sound of Madness).