Two and a half years. 810p, 13 March, 2020

Two and a half years.

I mean.

You know why I write so much, yeah? There’s no one to talk to here.
There’s no one here.

I go places and I look at things and I think of you and I can’t share them with you. I see things that I think you would like and I can’t tell you about them. I want to tell you that I signed up for hellofresh and I actually cooked and it was good. No, I didn’t make it the way it was supposed to be made, I didn’t put the blue cheese on because I don’t like blue cheese.

I made it the way I wanted.

and now I know how to cook potatoes like that I mean, I can make potatoes in the convection oven. I actually bought some extra potatoes on tuesday after work so that I could make some more with my extra burger that I have. I ate all of the potatoes with my first burger. I know I wasn’t supposed to do that but I was hungry and they tasted good.

On my way home from work and the supermarket tonight I looked out the window at the winter trees that have no leaves and saw that they were black against the civil twilight of the sky above the river. they were like paper cuts they were so finely detailed.

And now I’m sitting on the couch in my apartment and there is noise from above and there is noise from below and I am not making any of it. The only noise that is happening in my apartment is the aggressive purring of Mojo on my lap and the low-key ghostly howling that is coming from underneath the back door. Seriously it sounds like every bullshit made up ghost story “woooooooo”. Like I’m expecting to see the Mystery Machine screech to a halt in the parking lot.

I wish how I wish I could be one of those people with blind faith, with the committed belief that there is something after, that there is something else to be had after you die. That it’s not all just nothingness. Because then I could save up all the stuff to tell you. Or I could show you, you know, when I die.

I think about this ridiculous virus that is happening all over this planet and I’m grateful (if that’s an actual word that I can actually feel for this) grateful to not have to worry about you this time. That I don’t have to worry about your health.

Because you’re dead.
Some comfort.