Loss - Chapter 3

I haven't forgotten and I haven't moved on, but I've gained control. I don't constantly want to shoot myself in the face, and I eat and breathe and sleep as if I have something to live for.

I'm back at work now. There were a lot of people who gave me sympathy cards, hugs and gifts. I don't want their sympathy though, because it only serves to remind me of what I lost and what they still have. I don't act so sad at work. They still see the happy-go-lucky side of me and think I'm moving on just fine. Guess I've got news for them.

We're hiring on a new girl in my department. It's so she can pick up my slack. Everyone knows it, but they wont say it. They don't want me to be in anymore pain than I already am. It's still funny that they think I give a damn about this job. If I didn't have to eat, I wouldn't be here. She starts next Wednesday, and I heard her name was Lindsey or Lizzie or something. Whatever.

As I left the office, a few of the guys invited me to go get a few drinks with them. I declined. It was just one of those nights that I didn't fell like faking a smile the whole time. Maybe tomorrow, I told them. Yeah, right.

I get home and I turn on the T.V., just like every night. It's sort of a ritual for me. I like the mind-numbing effects of the sitcoms, music channels and cartoons. They draw me into their world and out of this God-forsaken one. It's like a dream to be able to sit there for hours and not have to think.

Dreams. The dream of my family still haunts me. I've stopped being aware that I'm even dreaming when it comes to me. I just take in everything and live as if it were the last time I actually spent with my family. Who cares if it's not real? It makes me happy, and gives me a reason to go on. The only thing that's wrong with it is when I have to wake up.

...I lied. My family is fading. They were so clear in that dream before, and now their faces are blurred, and their voices less clear. I feel like a failure for not being able to picture them clearly anymore. But, there's another thing that scared me even more than losing the memory of my family. What if... I'm losing myself instead? What if them fading is just a symbolic message that really means that if I don't start living life again, I could wind up worse than I already am? What if I'm doing more than remembering them? What if I'm trying to live, still hoping they'll come back, when I know it wont happen? What if I live every moment without really living?

Damn psychologist. Got me all philosophical and shit. Asshole.