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The PainI don't want to be here.
"We can rest tonight knowing Jenny is in a better place."
I don't want to be here.
"I didn't know her well but I was told she was a good person."
I don't want to be here.
"Max, sit up straight." My mother whispers to me.
I shift but don't comply with her wishes. My suit is too warm and this bench is too uncomfortable. I am staring at the box that holds my wife. I hate funerals because the dead person always looks like a wax doll and this time is no exception. My wife's eyes are glued closed, as well as her lips. She wears no makeup, the dark black suit from our wedding, and her wedding band. She demanded it in her will and her parents surprisingly obliged. Her hair, which is normally loose and wild, is tied up into a tight bun.
You would've hated this. It's too sad, too ordinary. You used to talk about your funeral. A morbid but entertaining discussion. You wanted thousands of red roses and white lights. You wanted light rock music in the backgrou
EventuallyThere isn't much you can do when you find out that the person you loved died. I could tell someone but that's not necessary right now. I could cry but there's no point in doing that. I could kill myself but there's no rope near me, no loaded gun. Knives would hurt. Pills. I have pills. It's Ibuprofen. That would take a lot of pills and I never liked swallowing pills in the first place. Alcohol poisoning is an option but there's only a single bottle of vodka left and I don't know how much it would take to kill me.
I could still drink it, that's an option. That would numb some of the pain. I'm already numb. The minute I heard the news I just collapsed on the chair that she never liked and stared. Stared at the carpet that she picked out, eyes wandering up to the pine cabinet that sits on the carpet she picked out. Strewn across it, other than the phone and post-its with reminders scrawled across them, sit snow globes. She collected them and placed them on the cabinet that sits on the car
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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