Does Death Make You Uncomfortable?

One year ago:
Every waking moment was spent in that little hospital room,
but she was alive.

Now:
I come and go as I please,
but she's gone.


I am not myself these days.
I'm too busy missing her
to be myself.

Sorry if I'm a bitch.
It's been a rough year.
And the fact that it's been a year
makes it so much harder.


Maybe I'll boycott Christmas this year.
My first without her.
Why celebrate that?


I wish I was a hermit.

Watching My Back

I found out Monday night that a girl I knew died of an overdose this weekend. Heroin or coke. She was only 22.

Yesterday my sociology professor anounnced that his dog had been hit by a car that morning and died.

Tomorrow is the eight month anniversary of my mom’s death.

It is not a good week.