"You sound excited to be going to a graveyard, Queen of Death!"
Text from my mum.
I still can’t write to your parents and tell them what I want to say about your odd buttoned shirt and your carrot cakes. There is a long autumn ahead. I think I killed you by proxy and I can’t stop thinking it.
I remember this time last year when I was in one of my seemingly endless periods of blue. I had spent all of my energy trying to hide it, but you could somehow see right through me. It is weird to think how one of the most touching and poignant moments I have ever experienced of human kindness was outside the grotty loo in which I had just rubbed away the sticky mascara dust left from my toilet tears, but you met me with a cup of tea and a cigarette, and the promise that it would be okay, and that you would be there for me, and that it would end. It was an unexpected act, but it wasn’t anything unexpected from you.
I somehow always naively and hopefully believed that if I could wake you up at four in the afternoon with enough cups of tea, and if I could make you laugh enough, and if you could only ride it out, that your whole life’s endless period of blue would melt away and that one day it would end for you too. It was an unexpected act, but it wasn’t anything unexpected from you.
To my lovely pal, Tim, I feel like it will always feel like two weeks ago since it didn’t end for you.