By Sophie Ann
I hurt. I ache all over. My limbs weary and dehydrated from the tears I cried in that empty yard behind the tall church, the horses staring in confusion. I spoke to you like you were there, telling you the recent events of school and the stress from exams. Just like you were stood there in your skirt, knee high socks and pink pigtails. As if you were still breathing right in front of me.
I tried to convince myself you are in heaven, a place in the clouds with your dad, which sounds like a perfect fantasy. But I know you’re just in a box underground, slowly decomposing in the sweet soil, bare bones from your small body left behind. The flashes of that reality hurt my eyes, make them blurry with the sadness. But still I talk, about the breaking of my relationship and the arguments between friends.
I apologised again for everything I did wrong and told you about your dear friend’s state, the slow downfall of her emotions making me feel numb inside, making me want to make everyone happy effortlessly, like you did, without knowing you touched so many lives. I’d do anything to tell you everything I wish I could, just to see you bound up to me at the bus stop. I’d do anything.
I ache all over.
Eyes slowly closing to sleep at the early morning sun. Maybe I should come and see you, sit with you in the clouds and finally meet your amazing dad. We could watch the stars again, a little closer this time. We could watch over everyone together. Because all I ever do is get pushed further, further to that decision. My one true happiness doesn’t want me. Sometimes it feels like no one does. I’m sorry.
I just hurt
I ache all over.