when you fall

Sometimes I think about Jacob's dad. I think about the fact that he is dead and I didn't go to his funeral, so he doesn't seem dead. He just seems like one of those people I don't see very often but who exists in the amorphous periphery of my life. But then I realize that he really is dead, as dead as my relationship with my once best-friend.

And that makes me feel sick. Sometimes I miss Jacob. Sometimes I'm angry with him for forcing my hand.

He called me the other day, from a number I didn't recognize. He told me he had just dropped off some of my things on my front porch and it was starting to rain. He didn't want them to get wet. He didn't say his name. It was so strange. I bawled after I hung up the phone with him. It was too much.

Sometimes I hate him for being lovely in some ways. That is the worst part of being done: remembering the good things, and the subsequent game of remembering the bad as an anchor in reality, the reality of letting die what needs to die so that what needs to live can live.

Today, on Prednisone day 7, I just miss him. I feel like there is a hole in my heart. I know it's a side effect of the drugs that has me feeling this way, but I feel it all the same.

Today I am weak.

Also, the absolute last thing I want to do right now is go to class, and yet, here I go.