alliegoestohollywood

There is something about the smell of flowers that reminds me of funerals. I remember my grandfather's funeral, every bit of it, but I can't remember anything said that day. I remember the smell of rain, and cold stone and flowers, and that is the smell I associate with death. This week someone close to my family died. There is an unspeakable sadness about watching someone you love grieve, knowing all too well how it hurts, and knowing you can't do a thing to make it better. Watching people mourn their loved ones and hoping you could stop and rewind time, hoping you could undo life's work and bring someone back and see their smiles again.

It's three in the morning, and I should be fast asleep, but sleep is not a friend, and it hasn't been for years. The dark circles come with my eyes, and I don't wear make-up, because honestly, I don't recognize myself without them anymore. I don't write anymore, not because I don't have things to say, but because in some weird way I always thought that by putting in words some of my thoughts, I was somehow attracting the things I wrote about. But I now think I should write it, because I feel like a hole is burning in my very soul. The doctor told me that some of what has been keeping me from crashing is the fact that I keep my sense of humo