What’s wrong with me? Derek messages again.
Fine bitch lmafo you’re missing out.
Dumb whore. Fuck u
Only prudes on this app
Grant would never treat me this way. I need to think about Grant. I feel my lip quiver. What have I done? I lock my phone and toss it across the sofa, startling Lily. Why would I need to download an app? I’m mourning, right? Mourning girls don’t need to look at hot guys or go on dinner dates.
How can I be happy and go on a dinner date when my fiancé is dead? How can I even think about being happy when Grant is dead? I walk towards the bathroom.
I feel trapped in my own skin. I am disgusted by my own actions. I feel so gross, like I need to take a shower to wash thedirty thoughts from my mind. I feel like I have fucked another man and paid him for it. Another man. I feel so ashamed.
Stripping my clothes, I climb into the shower. Idiot, idiot, idiot. Why did I download that app? Grant would never treat me this way. I let the water flow over my skin, mixing with my own tears of regret. I didn’t deserve to be happy after Grant died. I don’t deserve to be happy when he’s dead. I repeat that mantra over and over like I have the last three years.
If he’s not here, I’m not happy.
If he’s dead, he’s not here.
I should have done more.
I shouldn’t have let him die.
Even though I knew I could not have done a thing. Death doesn’t discriminate. I feel a shiver deep in my bones, and I know deep down, I have to break free of this spiral of thought I have let myself swim in the last three years. My therapy wasn’t in vain.
He’s not here.Why can’t I be happy?
He’s dead.He’s not coming back.
I couldn’t have done anything else.
I’m not a doctor. Why wasn’t I a doctor?
I’m crying with my whole body. I cough up a lump of mucus and spit it into the drain. A tsunami wave washes over me. This guilty grief feels like nothing else. It destroys everything else I feel
All guys can’t be like that, right? I ask myself the question as if I have the answer. Grant wasn’t like that. I wish I could have Grant back. I miss him terribly.I am so, so lonely.
Shampoo.
Rinse.
Conditioner.
Rinse again.
I want to be in good company. I want to be happy. I want to be in love again. I have so much love to give, and I want to give it to someone, anyone, who will receive it. How much longer must I wait before I don’t feel so terrible about wanting to love again? Why does it feel so terrible? I know I’m ready to love again. Maybe I’m not ready if I feel like this.
Who decides? I decide.
I don’t mind the changing of the seasons, the many sunrises or sunsets I’ve spent without him. I don’t care about the empty bed, or the missing shoes, or the thrown-out razors anymore. I don’t even really mind moving from the apartment.
But I am so afraid that if I learn to love someone else, it means Grant will be gone forever, only a memory truly lost to the passing of time. I’ll have to find some way to remember him. I cry for the rest of my shower.
I wake up the next morning with a headache. Today is the day I start painting Jae’s mural. I stare at myself in the mirror and someone different stares back at me. The same shell of myself I’ve looked at in the mirror for the last three years suddenly looks different. After it hit me last night, how long must I wait before I can love again?
I don’t want to wait any longer. I’m ready for good things to happen. I need something good. Look in the mirror, and they can happen today. Determined to make today a good day, I get dressed in my painting coveralls that I haven’t worn in well over a year. They’re a little snug in the shoulders but I will make it work for today. I pet Lily’s snout and pat her head as she awakens from her slumber. She clobbers my feet, excited forthe day ahead. Little does she know; it will be filled with much napping and solitude once again.
I go over my schedule in my head.
