Armsandhands

We all do it, it's what our senses were meant for; association. The smell of dust, tobacco and sweat directly correlates to who I used to be. The sound of grand orchestras, tiny symphonies, and bass guitars were meant for Fridays. Cool, slick and smooth reminds me of your face before you stopped shaving. When I see the sky resembling a watercolor painting I think of hot summer and what it was supposed to be. When I taste mercury I think how sick I was when you met me.
Abandonment: to leave completely and finally; forsake utterly; desert.
-to yield (oneself) without restraint or moderation; give (oneself) over to natural impulses, usually without self-control.
To me abandonment was being left to a pack of wolves. Torn in every direction by sharp teeth I couldn't fight off. You left me slowly. For whatever self mutilating reason, I know the exact moment you checked out I can pinpoint it back to mid-May. What changed; you fell into a deeper trance to your drug. If it wasn't going to be inflicted into your body, your body had to create it. You and I know the meaning of truly living in one's head. That's where we spent all our time before we met. The year before I remember fighting for a reason to hold on at all, the year before you were too busy lying to yourself that that was all it could be. I hear your voice skip over the words I took for granted, no they are accidental, a mistake. Reality creeping at my feet, but I don't dare dive in completely. A scab I love to let bleed wide open continuously, what pain, why is unhappiness a feeling I've gotten used to? How does that happen?
Hurt: to affect adversely; harm.
-to cause mental pain to; offend or grieve
Pain and hurt used to mean scraping my skin on the sidewalk, breaking a different bone every year it's how I inherited my childhood nickname. Then pain morphed into emotions and feelings; the loss of a hero I was supposed to grow up to be. I wasn't supposed to have all of this afflict me at one time. A constant reminder of his legacy is left in my features. I feel sad for my family members who look at me and see his daughter, see little flecks of him in my eyes. He's in these hands I produce my greatest gift with. I could only hope a little piece of her will be ingrained in me. But how you deal with loss that is a constant reminder? Staking out its home in my chest which has never been so hollow.
Truth: a verified or indisputable fact, proposition, principle, or the like.
-ideal or fundamental reality apart from and transcending perceived experience.
I think truth to me is made up of little secrets and white lies. In just three long hours I expelled it all, feeling instead of hollow, heavy. Finally being able to grasp the weight of what cards I was dealt. That day I stared out into the sun I did not feel its rays or its wonderful heat, I was given my answer and as much as I denied it the inevitable would follow. My best friend's voice does not effect me in any way. There is not a hint of a smirk, there is nothing. I find myself sobbing, not even crying. My tear ducts being over used for all these years that I buried my feelings, my ideas and myself. There was so much comfort in knowing that I would be held together for the rest of my life by something greater than me. Instead I have to start all over again. It begins with shock, denial, acceptance, and possibly giving it another chance, reaching out my hand.