Buddy
Everytime I see someone since my uncle’s been gone, they tell me how different I look
How I cut my hair short
How my acne cleared up
How my lips aren’t chapped anymore
How much weight I’ve lost
I lost 25 pounds since he died.
My mom always said that I eat a lot when I’m depressed
Because she does
And to her, everything is hereditary
As it turns out I’m getting my wisdom teeth out way before she did
And my depression eats me alive before I can finish a meal.
Guess I’m too full on sad.
I stay in bed so much I have a vitamin D deficiency
For most people it doesn’t become a risk
But most people don't turn the empty spaces on their walls into tragedies
My nightmares used to make it hard to sleep
Now I’m asleep more than I am awake because it’s the only place I’ll get to see him
And saying “I’m tired” feels easier than saying “I miss him.”
I’m getting eyebags from sleeping too much
My body doesn’t remember what it’s like to feel warm
My friends have stopped touching my hands
The leap frogs in my head weigh me down so much I’m slouching like a middle school aged boy
I swear the last time I looked in the mirror I saw fingers wrapping around my heart instead of a rib cage
My rings are starting to fall off
He used to think I was already too thin
Imagine if he could see me now
If he could see how baggy my brand new jeans have become
Or hear how proud I am
For once, I’m a small
And I’m only getting smaller
I’m shrinking at the same rate my memories of him are deteriorating
How are you’s have started to become:
“How’d you lose so much weight?”
Are you okay’s turned into:
“Are you on a diet?”
When you’re small everyone remembers how big you used to be
Not the series of events that led you to this paper thin freezing in 90 degree weather body
I don’t know how to say my problems are feeding my stomach
And my favorite foods don’t taste like food anymore.
Everytime I touch a spoon to my lips it starts to smell like him
I could smell how empty he was
How there was not a single drop of blood running through his veins anymore
How he wasn’t here anymore
I could smell how empty he was
He smelled like the nothing that was starting to eat me alive
I’ve started to remember the way he used to stare blankly at my leftovers while his hands couldn’t stop shoving food into his mouth
And I wish I could do the same
But I can’t move my hands
Because they’re still on his cold sandpaper palms
They’re still searching for the warmth that isn’t there anymore
Sometimes I can hear him in my head asking “are you gonna finish that?”
And I almost audibly say “no”
Before saying “I’m full” and heading back to bed.
He didn't get out of bed much
So neither do I anymore
Because saying “I’m tired” feels easier than saying,
”I miss him.