it's embarrassing. grief can leave you in such a state of embarrassment that i'm not sure anyone would find it funny if a comedian spoke of it. i guess no one really knows what it is to be embarrassed by your own pain until you've gone through it. i guess crying after you've hurt yourself once you're over the age of 10 can slightly compare to grief of losing your hero, but it's a little bit different.

people tell me it's okay. people tell me that it's going to happen; i'll cry in random places, even in public. as much as i hate to believe it, i know it's true; it's embarrassing. i've cried on a bus. a couple times. it was only a few tears and it was gone. it was okay. it wasn't that embarrassing.

i can't deal with certain topics anymore. i can't deal with apathy and death. i'm not scared of death but i don't look at it like it is some unimportant part to life. it bothered me last night that the movie dealt with those concepts. it hurt because i kept thinking of how everyone else feels when you die. how this vulnerability just begins to grow inside you and as much as you want to think you're strong, you only feel yourself becoming weak.

it's not like i hadn't cried in front of these people before. one has seen me through thick and thin. one has seen me through thin. it was embarrassing to be sobbing in front of these people, to be holding so tightly onto the one. it hurt and inside i kept telling myself to pull it together, to be strong. i kept telling myself to be a statue again. to start playing it like i was okay. i kept saying i was sorry. i felt like i was ruining in the mood and i feel i did.

i just hate it. i hate being so embarrassed by this pain and i hate hiding it. i hate having to put on a brave front and keep acting so optimistic when all i want to scream to the world is that it'll never be perfect. that it'll never be the way you want it and to take whatever you can and cherish it. to refuse to let it go but not letting go is another sign of weakness.

i'm not ready to say goodbye to him. i'm not sure i ever will. i miss him with each passing moment, with each snowflake that falls on the ground. with every walk i take, i wish he were there beside me, talking my ear off. with every smile, every laugh, every joke... i wish he could see it. i wish he could hear it. i wish he could experience what i'm experiencing because the world is such a phenominal place and as much as i don't want to be optimistic, i have no where else to go. i have nothing else to fall back on but the positive reinforcements i keep trying to explain to myself.

there's just so much he's missing out on and i feel regret for that. he'd be proud of me, i know he would. i know he'd be rooting for me, telling me that he believes in me and that as long as i do the best i can, that as long as i've prepared as much as i can, then that's all i could have done. that i've put everything in it and that's enough for him. i just wish i could hear these words from his mouth. i just wish i could hear his voice telling me that i'm right on track; that he's watching me.

that's one thing about death that i'll never be able to accept. the fact you lose so much with them. along with their physical appearance and their presence... you lose their voice. you lose their touch and their charm. their laughter leaves you... you begin to remember the times you've had but you lose the details. you forget their tone, how they would laugh. how they looked when they laughed. you forget how they'd look at you with such sympathy, how you could see the pain in their eyes when they've seen you're hurting inside. how their brow furrowed in concentration or concern. how they'd look when they gave you a present they thought you'd like in your utter surprise.

as the band Of Montreal says in their song, The Past is a Grotesque Animal, "It's embarrassing to need someone like I do you. How can I explain? I need you here and not here too."