I'm really happy I'm not home for Easter this year. Easter was hard enough last year and it didn't even fall on these days. It's been two years since the worst night and day of my life, and two years since I lapsed into the worst depression I've ever faced and honestly struggled to stay alive every day and contemplated ending my life every night for months.
If I was at home right now, I think I'd have to face those memories again. I would have to come to terms with the fact that it actually happened. But here at school, 7 hours away, I can pretend it's not April 5th and 6th. I can pretend they just don't exist. That they were just wiped off the calendar like the cruel reminders they are. Or at least I thought I could.
Since the end of March, I stopped keeping track of the days. I stayed in my room with my blinds closed, not even really bothering to check the time on my phone. I slept when I felt like it, and woke up when I felt like it. I was hoping that April 5th and 6th would go by and I wouldn't even notice; that I would just wake up one day, check the date, and months would have gone by. But of course, life doesn't work that way. You can't just hide from your problems and escape the truth. A part of you knows it, and that part won't let you forget.
I woke up in the middle of the night, or at least I think it was night. I couldn't breathe. I could not breathe at all. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest and grabbing my throat. I was drenched in sweat and shaking. I had a nightmare. And that nightmare woke me up. I had a nightmare of what happened, of what I was avoiding thinking about. At first, half asleep me tried to ease my breathing and comfort myself and say that it was just a nightmare - that it was okay, she was still alive. But then conscious me woke up fully and remembered. No, it wasn't just a bad dream. It was real. It happened. She's really gone and she's never coming back. I reached for my phone and checked the date. April 4, 2015. The day before the two year anniversary. Looks like I had to deal with it after all. Looks like I couldn't just forget.
Is it going to be like this every year? I thought things are supposed to get better with time. It's already been two years and I still feel the pain of losing her just as bad as I did the night it happened. My hands are shaking as I'm typing this and tears are streaming down my face. I'm a mess. Before, when I would be upset like this, the only thing that would calm me down was to hold her. Ever since I was 4 years old, she was the only one who could comfort me.
And now I'm left with nothing and no one to fill that hole.
I just want her back.
Why couldn't I have just slept through these few days.