Why?!?! Why is all I have left of you is a guitar, a leather jacket & a giant hole in my soul? Why is that I now get to try to rely on my memory of who you were and pictures? I don't even have a voicemail to try to save & listen to over & over so I never forget your voice.
Why can the memory of that day still bring me to my knees & steal the breath from my lungs?
I'm trying so hard just to get through every day, to just get things done & I can't even do that. I start to clean the kitchen and it never gets done. I plan to get the living room dusted & vacuumed, but I haven't done it. None of it even matters anymore. It's all just stuff that has to be taken care of when half the time I'm not sure I can take care of myself.