When I was a child, my grandfather died. I didn't know him that well, but it was the first time I discovered real people could die, and that they weren't coming back. I used to stay awake, bawling my eyes out, imagining my own mortality expiring. The funeral, the family moving on, the friends finding other friends. Since then, I have discovered you can die whilst still alive. I haunt the paths we used to walk, a sullen spectre. I'm just a skeleton of who I used to be. Lovers forget me, friends find others, and I sit here watching my empty funeral. The thought that scared me the most as a boy about death, was the idea of being somehow trapped, alone for an eternity, no longer with any friends or future. Now I feel like that already. Buried alive. tAD |