"one day we'll get nostalgic for disaster..."

I really cant believe it's been one year. I'm trying to find the words to mask the fact that one year ago tomorrow, the only person who defended me when I was younger was killed. They say it's easier to forget, but its taken me a year and I'm still not over it. Somehow, the day he died I lost all my security. I used to never let the world beneath me crumble. I never had to sit at a piano and bleed just to put words on the paper. Lately it seems like so much has changed in the past year, and I want how things used to be back. I want to feel that security again, knowing someone will be there to catch me if I fall. I want to feel like someone cares and someone knows what its like to be the focus of verbal attacks. The light from the moon shines on my pale, cursed walls. Each ray that reflects is reminiscent of the morning he left. The way my floor creaks, the sound that makes my blood boil every morning, reminds me of how at some point I could be gone too. The sunrise reminds me of how in the past 12 months I've become nostalgic for riots and chemicals that could only make the pain worse. I see who I used to be and who I am today and wonder what specific moment in time made me want to be so low. It was the day he died. He gave his life so that others could survive. He ran into a house to save a life, not knowing that that life was just fine. Kyle's the kind of guy who deserves to be considered a hero and deserves to be recognized for what he's done. He's a hero, and not one of those fake ones that Hollywood wanted to create. A real hero. When I sit and think about it, its all changed the way I see things. Now it makes me feel like a total wimp when I'm sitting here crying over some boy, when there are people around the world crying over the fact that they cant do anything to stop their love from dying. It's too late to explain the conspiracy I've been living in, but maybe someday I'll let it all out. As for now, it's been one year and I'm finally learning to live, laugh, love, and breathe knowing that Kyle's okay. This year has taught me to appreciate each breath I take, because any one of them could be my last. I used to dream of monsters and blood-stained walls lining this cold-hearted, three story hell house. Now each sunrise and sunset paints these pictures that haunt me, but not so much haunting as just trying to make this life seem worthwhile. I wake up every morning and breathe in the polluted air that surrounds DC. Though it could suffocate me, it makes me wake up and realize that there are always going to be those days where I just don't want to wake up. I have to wake up. For me. For everyone who couldn't wake up. For the kids who spend countless hours lying in cold rooms wishing they didnt have to wake up; kids who are just like who I used to be. For Kyle. For each day that I've spent this past year wishing I could be dead too. I don't regret the experience, though. It's taught me so many lessons. All I can say from here is that life is finally looking up. Things are going as planned and somehow, someday, this is all going to make sense.


RIP Kyle. <33