9.24.1986/age 16

      It's been five months today since Matthew died. Some days I'll think I'm over it, but most of the time I end up in the same place I was on April 24th. I'm still waiting for his return, even today, embarrassing myself by being unable to keep my head fucking together, like the time at Dave's party this summer I snorted too much and went out into a dumpster, sure I was talking to him.

      I remember so vividly when I first saw him, I knew who he was even from a distance, my angel. At least. I'll never value time with someone like I did with him. he loved me for who I was, not for who I could be, or should be, but for who I was. We went through hell to be together, absolute fucking hell. He was almost arrested, I was almost shipped to Kentucky to that home. We knew we were fated, gave up everything to be together. Nothing meant more than being together eternally (I'm struggling writing this).

      After such a long time, I thought we'd won. After running away, no food, no money, the hospital, we conquered the obstacles. And two weeks later, he was gone. 2 weeks. No explanation, no note, no reason, no warning, just gone. At the funeral, at the police, no one understood. he took OUR life, not just his, ours. Our life we fought for and our life I was living for. Starving, cutting, not sleeping for months, trying to avoid now that he was gone. Accept that only I was left and that we had no our life anymore, just mine. No one understood now, no one did then, why a 23-year-old punk god would want to spend his life with a fifteen-year-old girl (of course, maybe he didn't, that was bullshit, maybe, since he's gone).

      I still miss him. I always will miss him. I don't feel like I have the right to be alive if he's dead. I feel like a total traitor: I'm alive, and he worked so hard for me for nothing. Visiting his room after, I never felt so betrayed in my life. The bed we used was gone, full of blood, his diaries taken, my poems and letters stolen, we had no secrets left. They weren't ours anymore. And no matter how much I beg and scream, he won't come back, didn't then, won't now. All I loved is gone.

      His grave is with a million others, it isn't special. I'm trying to hard to keep everything in my head and it hurts so bad when I can't remember something, and it's getting worse all the time.

© 1986/2001