My sunshine and always fingers

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This was for the Writing Challenge back in May that I only just actually got around to doing because I didn't have the words. I didn't know how to tell my best friend that I was angry at him for not being alive anymore. I didn't know how to tell him that I was furious because in the almost two years that he's been gone, it hasn't gotten any easier.

Submitted: September 24, 2015

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Submitted: September 24, 2015

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Dear Lucas,

I am so mad at you. 
I have been sad, I have been grieving, I have been wishing that I could join you; but now, I'm just angry. I'm angry because what was going through your fucking mind? I'm angry because I miss you and you're not around anymore for me to find and hug and tell you that I miss you. I'm angry because I don't want your ripped off skin as a blanket to wrap myself in when I need to feel you're still here. I'm angry because you are not there and I want you to be. I don't want your leftover body parts; I'll throw those at school children, I'll feed them to stray cats, I'll burn them. I don't want a jar of your teeth as a memento. I don't want your heart, I already have one. I don't want your lungs, they are deflated balloons now. There's no life there, there's no you there. I want you. And I'm angry, because you're not here! I am so mad. I shake with the anger, Lucas. 

I visit you whenever I can bring myself too but your presence isn't there any more. The air doesn't have your scent (ink and pumpkin spice and cinnamon), the bench doesn't feel like you're sat beside me, with your head resting against my shoulder and breath rushing out against my bare skin. 

YOU'RE NOT THERE! LUCAS! WHERE DID YOU GO? 

Do you remember that day we talked about our least favourite words? Do you remember telling me yours was 'almost'? I do, because you were almost eighteen. Because you were almost free of high school. Because you were almost happy. I realise now why you hated that word so much, I am beginning to feel the same way. You said 'almost' represented our ability to be good enough, but not quite getting there. You said we had come to the brink of being something beautiful, but fell short so many times that we created a word for it. Almost. 

I don't know where you are anymore but I hope you are happy. I am angry, so angry, at you but I hope your heaven is full of libraries. I miss you, but please don't come back because, Lucas, while I might love a zombie apocolypse TV show and I definitely would love to see you again, I'm always going to be afraid of the things that could happen but only ever do on the TV. 

My man on the moon, my glittering constellation, my sunshine and always fingers: I love you. 
I will always love you. 

Charlie 


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