Stages of Grief: Fucking Anger
I miss Stewart and I don’t know what to think or feel.
I have trouble processing emotions and describing what I am really feeling.
I am angry that I have to deal with another terrible thing. Angry that he did this. Angry at the pain myself and the others that loved him must now feel.
Angry that he walked away from me. Humiliated me. Cheated on me. Then begged for my attention. Again. Begged for me back. Again. And when I finally decided no; that I wouldn’t play this hot and cold game anymore, I was angry that he would not leave me alone.
Angry that he wouldn’t respect my boundaries.
Angry that he left me to pick up broken pieces.
Angry that he put me in a place to be the decision maker all over.
I am fucking pissed at myself for wanting his love and attention so terribly that I made myself sick.
I hate that I gave everything I had and that he took it all just the same.
I am angry that I had to plead for his loyalty and I am full of rage that he would have the audacity to ask for me back after everything he put me through.
And I am fucking pissed because he was my best friend…. I miss his stupid face that I want to hit and also kiss and never let go of again.
And most of all, I hate that I can not help but love him.
I am angry that after all this bullshit I still love him the same.
And I am mad that he could not see that.
I regret that we will never go for a drive again. And that I did not take up his offer to go walking in the rain earlier this year because more than anything, I wanted that. I wanted to drop my entire day to be with him again. I spent that afternoon imagining us as lovers, as we once were. I spent those hours weeping at the loss of what could never be.
That we will not go roaming under the stars looking for some meaning on this earth.
I am angry that he left me with these memories that I can never share with any other.
That I have these things inside of me that I can not explain in the way that would make sense to anyone but him. Someone I can be fully free and myself with. No judgement.
Not a care in the entire fucking universe.
No person but you.
I feel such terrible sorrow remembering your grief. That look of broken spirit and defeat sitting in your eyes. How you cried at sentimental moments in movies and songs. How you had heartache most of your life and that it would come out at the strangest, most inconvenient times. Like at 3 a.m. when I needed to be to work at 8.
I am filled with bitter and broken anguish because I am stuck with all of this for the rest of my life and all I truly desire is for you to be back —