I miss her. Its lonely with out her to talk to anymore, sometimes I manage to forget she's not around, sometimes. But I miss her, it was nice to have someone that close, to talk to about anything, at anytime. It is I think the thing I miss about her most, not her kisses, as few as were mine, not her hugs, as sweet as they were, not her eyes, pools to drown in, nor her hair, silken stands to run my fingers through but her voice. Spoken over the phone, dulcet tones, recieved with quickslver speed by instant messenger. I miss her words, I miss her.
Time they say is something which heals old wounds. It doesn't. Time simply makes the memory of the wound fade, as the scar grows ever so slowly. Time allows you to get used to it, to forget, to become acustomed to the pain, the aches and hurts. Time has worked on me, I no longer find myself thinking about her every day. Everything I see no longer brings memories of her tagging along with it. Every activity I think of no longer reminds me of lost and broken maybe what-ifs.
Sleep comes slowly and perhapes not at all tonight. of al the things I hate about Chronigc Fatigue its the things that it steals from me that I hate most. I hate the feeling of lost time, of being seperated from friends, of the things that might have been. I greatly desire to beat the damned thing to senselessness. I have to fight off the depresion, its hard, but I can do it. I might need to shoot a few things to help things along like, but thats just me being blood thirsty.
Well chicklets I must be offs to walk, or drive myself to distraction. VROOOM VROOOM!