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I don't think I've felt as fragile in my life as I do today. It feels like the slightest thing could demolish me.

For those of you that are still unaware of my recent loss, my grandfather died last Wednesday morning. I worshiped that man. I say 'died' instead of 'passed away' because that's what happened. According to the belief system that he acknowledged in front of me, he wasn't going to have an afterlife. When he was done, he was done. He blinked out of existence. Maybe just kind of vanished like the flame on a lighter after the cherry glows on a cigarette. He used to have me blow out the lighter when he was done lighting up one of his Marlboro Reds. Soft pack only. I never knew why.


When I got out of my Spanish class today, I tried to call my mother to ask her permission to get a tattoo. She hasn't gotten back to me. I have an artist in mind already, and the design and placement. I just want to ask her first since she's going to have to see it whenever she looks at me. I'm not concerned about it keeping me from getting a job. I can keep it covered easily. I'm not concerned about how it'll look in forty years. None of me will be very attractive then. I just can't deal with disappointment and disgust at the moment.

I've never had to deal with this kind of grief before. I don't know if I want to be alone or with friends right now. I don't know if I want to go to the arboretum and sit in some leafy shade and eat a pomegranate or sit in a dark dorm room and listen to more Marilyn Manson at an obscene volume. I don't know if I want to sob until my stomach aches or if I want to just curl up and sleep. I don't know.

There's an eerie calm to my torment though. It's more of a weary sigh than an agonized scream. I'm taking it to mean that this too shall pass. Time heals all wounds and wounds all heels, so... I guess it's a bit of a tradeoff.

I just keep thinking of the last time I saw him, it was the same as any other time I told him goodbye. I hugged him and told him that I loved him, and he said "I love you too, baby." I can still hear his voice.

I still have voicemails from him left in my phone.

I know I'll heal. I know that this gut wrenching agony will eventually just become a dull ache. But I'm choking on this slick taste of sorrow. I'm sick of reapplying mascara and eyeliner.

It's been a long week. I just miss him.