Pebbles

P was my rock, no my Earth, my entire existence rotated around him. He was my everything. If something happened he was There. He actually Cared. What is there now? Some people care, but it's not the same. They don't care about everything like he did. They only care about little parts of me, and with different tolerances for the convenience of caring.

I hate trying to fill the void now. Spreading it all out among the pebbles in my life. Some are a little bigger, maybe like a backhoe-only movable garden stone for family and really close friends. But even then, they can roll away, they're not my existence and I'm definitely not theirs. They don't text funny stories because the second they hear a funny story they think of telling me. They don't help cook my dinner because they know it would make Me happy. ME!

I can't believe P cared about little old me, but he did. It makes me cry to think that someone so amazing could give a rip about me. Now I'm this sad and pathetic thing. Most of my friends are virtual. I even started going on random chats to add people to my instant messengers, just to feel like someone cared. To add more pebbles.

There's a guy I added, he got a little too attached, but I loved it. Didn't even like him that much, was a total settle 'good enough' thing. How fucking terrible. But I just miss P actually caring, so I guess some fake caring from a fake person who didn't even really know the real me was the best I can get now. Some shitty 'r u there?' IM waiting when I get home, or maybe I can even check it from my cell phone, as if people really know or care the rare times I'm out and about. P would have. That guy turned out to be a turd instead of a pebble anyway. Makes me sick to think of how special P was and how hurtful, mean and mediocre at best everyone else is.

The other night at home, I slipped and fell. Messed up my knee, it hurt so bad. Nobody was there and nobody cared. Nobody knew how excruciating the pain was, and nobody heard me scream the f word at the top of my lungs and sob because P wasn't in his room. He wasn't rushing out to check on me, with a waft of warm air and his sweet special smell. I loved that sleepy smell he had. I just lied on the floor shaking with the phone in my hand in case I started to pass out. I wanted to call 911 so somebody would know I died and feed my (our) little cat.

I'm too chicken to kill myself, what if I got it wrong and there is some kind of afterlife and somehow I don't get to be with P if I purposely kill myself? If there was an accident though.. and it was nice and quick... all I can say now is "oh well". How absolutely terrible it is, that life, which should be my most precious thing ever has been reduced to 'oh well'. The most precious thing I had was him.

It's all gone now because of cancer.