Am I feeling this because it is the typical course of grief? Is it because I can subconsciously or intuitively sense he is on the precipice now? Or because I am leaving on Sunday and the disconnect will feel even greater? The lights are on in the lobby here and I want them shut off. The tv is on and I want it shut off. My family is talking and I want them to stop. I want the world to stop so I can yell so loud that it forces time to respectfully commence a backpedal. I want to play my music so loud that it drowns out my thoughts and outweighs my feelings. Auditory overpower. Fuck cancer and fuck everything on this earth that causes it.
A rewound car crash on loop.
I’m waist deep in water. Wall after wall of water relentlessly crashes down on me. How I’m maintaining my foothold escapes me, I have just enough oxygen to breathe before the next wall of water slams into me, pushing me into an awkward dance for balance. Where am I and how did I get here?? Where’s my dad? I look to the shoreline and towering abandoned towers crumble to the ground in a lazy and sickly fashion. My chest is tight. The taste of salt fills my mouth. Nausea. At this moment I want to curl up into a ball and lay silently in a dry, dark corner. I don’t know where to go or what to say. I am surprised I am still writing something coherent. My dad prepares for liberation across the hallway and I’m a fucking wreck all over again. I’m tired of it.