anchor.

how can i leave when my anchor's at shore?
(the whaler (acoustic)--thrice)

he's become a distant memory. it's been 1 year and 7 months, and it has finally come to that point. a part of me knew it would happen eventually, but i was scared for the actual moment. and slowly, but surely, it's become so difficult to remember his laugh. i have to try so hard to remember what his hands felt like. and i've long forgotten the kiss. just like everything in life, things pass at a much faster pace than we can afford, and my pockets are bare. i'm flat broke, and i've been thinking a lot lately. i can't necessarily put a label on it. it's no longer sadness or grief. it isn't anger or regret. and it certainly isn't enthusiam or happiness. it's more of this....nothing. i still go visit him. his mom too. every month i make the trip down there. she makes dinner and pretends like he's just upstairs getting a shower. she smiles and offers me a drink. she never goes with me to visit him. in fact, i don't know that she ever goes...not that it matters. there are no rules when it comes to death. people die and if you loved them, you get to do whatever the fuck you want. it's like this right you've earned for your sorrows. it certainly isn't a fair trade, but in life you just take what you can get. i'll never fully understand the sequence of events that summer. and i've exhausted myself trying to piece together things that i was never meant to know. i'm done trying to find reasons and excuses. i'm done trying to remember, and i'm done living with my regrets. sometimes life tells you that you aren't enough, and you've got two choices to make. you can either believe and accept it, hanging your head wishing you could have miraculously filled yourself with enough potential to fix things, or you can choose option two. you tell life to fuck itself and you prove it wrong. you set your sights and believe in yourself to the point that none of it matters anymore. it's easy to see which option i chose. and i'll quite possibly be living with that decision for the rest of my life. because if i've learned one thing throughout my 21 years, it's that sometimes you run out of second chances.