isn’t it strange that once a person leaves your life, you recognize how much everything reminds you of them. you can’t go for a drive without seeing them everywhere. The place you grew up is colored over in memories.
Every time I turn my head it feels as though there’s another new reminder. There’s a lump in my throat from doing ordinary things. Can’t even leave my room without being reminded by photographs and drawings and clothes I’ve worn. My chest just feels heavy. I feel guilty for not missing him more.
It’s also odd how memories distort the past. I tend to focus on the good but somehow I keep remembering the pain of being not nearly enough. Somehow my so muchness still didn’t help. That hurts.
Reality feels a little distorted now.