Bright lights shine through the window of our bedroom, blinding my eyes for just a quick second before becoming focused on him; the soft lines that make up this jawline, the way his five o' clock shadow somehow becoming more refined in the sunlight. Balancing depth and shadow onto his face, the sun graced across his feather-like blonde hair and suddenly, i feel relieved. i'll be just fine, as long as he's here, right beside me.
t o d a y
Waking up, it's another day like all the rest. Wake up. Look in the mirror. Smile. Sip coffee. Try not to think about it. It's repetitive, and frankly very tiring. It's harder to smile everyday than you'd think it is. Everyone has different ways of coping with tragedy. I haven't found mine yet. I've been following the echoing words that my shrink tells me every Tuesday and Friday at 10am; "Fake positivity, until that positivity becomes real." Personally, i think shes full of shit. I've been seeing her since it happened and honestly she hasnt been helping much. No amount of antidepressants can numb the guilt that runs through me everytime i see his picture. Everything could've been different, it could've been avoided. I could've saved him.
But I didn't.
YOU ARE READING
Ghost of You
General Fiction"𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶" It's been 3 years since Alice Bell experienced tragedy. Therapy sessions and antidepressants only numbed the feeling of the loss. Others told her to sell their...
