i’m sorry. i know i’m four days late but quit talking to me in that annoyed tone. hear me out, i got caught up with deadlines. i drove here as soon as i got them over with.
no just kidding, i can take your annoyance because i showed up late like always over your cold silence. perpetually cold. can’t ghosts talk? or haven’t you at least learned how to drop objects, knock on walls or change the channels on tv? sometimes when the lights in the dorm’s foyer flicker i quickly think it’s your new way of saying “sup”. then i’d remember the building’s decades old. it could just be some unfixable maintenance problem or perhaps some other ghost.
i hate you for that. we used to talk about how we felt like never truly belonged in highschool. we promised to go to the same college and be dormmates and be there as we got used to our new lives. my roommate finally showed up a week ago, a month too late for freshmen week and all that orientation ****. she’s cool and plays bass in a band. i think you’d get along with her the way she’s a morning person and takes up archaeology like how you said you would.
i can no longer listen to movement’s daylily. paramore’s last hope. all time low’s therapy. pierce the veil’s hold on til may. because i just end up thinking of how i’d make you listen to them whenever you’d call because the urge was getting strong again.
all those times we talked about dying and death and planning our funerals. ****** we were so horridly morbid. i didn’t think you’d actually pull through with it-out of the two of us, you were the one wary of things unfound in your comfort zone and i was the one who took risks. but hell, now i admit my fears surrounded death or atleast intentional ones. i wish i didn’t doubt a single bit that you’d do it.
yours was almost perfect by the way. you wore that white lace dress from your favorite grandmother and the mortician gave you purple highlights. they didn’t put your playlist on because hell, no one could take the upbeatness of the guitar rifts and the drums but the five of us let it go on loop thrice after your burial, drinking on the hood of my car, toasting to our tears. the groupchat doesn’t get flooded with memes anymore. believe me, we tried so hard to have things not change because that’s what you would’ve wanted, for us to keep going even without you.
but **** that, it’s ******* to even pretend;
how do we get past this, past you?
you pierced a permanent gap in what the word platonic soulmate meant for me. i hate you. so, so much.
but i don’t. because ****, you’ve finally chosen yourself like how i always told you to after each breakup you went through with all those ****** guys but i didn’t mean it like that. i can only hope you’re happy in your heaven. we detested that but i would like to believe there’s an afterlife for you. that’s what you deserved all along. i hope it’s one with moshpits and parents who give you earnest attention and neverending halloween.
here. i brought you paper roses. i used blue vellum for this. mind to give me an a+ for effort?
i have to drive back, it’s getting dark. and yes i’ll drive safely and text you when i reach the dorm. i’ll have a spare key behind the picture frame, if you ever wanna drop by.