Little Deaths

When You’re Gone
By: Avril Lavinge

I always needed time on my own
I never thought I’d need you there when I cry
And the days feel like years when I’m alone
And the bed where you lie is made up on your side

When you walk away I count the steps that you take
Do you see how much I need you right now

[Chorus]
When you’re gone
The pieces of my heart are missing you
When you’re gone
The face I came to know is missing too
When you’re gone
The words I need to hear to always get me through the day and make it ok
I miss you

I’ve never felt this way before
Everything that I do reminds me of you
And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor
And they smell just like you, I love the things that you do

When you walk away I count the steps that you take
Do you see how much I need you right now

[Chorus]
When you’re gone
The pieces of my heart are missing you
When you’re gone
The face I came to know is missing too
When you’re gone
The words I need to hear to always get me through the day and make it ok
I miss you

We were made for each other
Out here forever
I know we were, yeah
All I ever wanted was for you to know
Everything I’d do, I’d give my heart and soul
I can hardly breathe I need to feel you here with me, yeah

[Chorus]
When you’re gone
The pieces of my heart are missing you
When you’re gone
The face I came to know is missing too
When you’re gone
The words I need to hear to always get me through the day and make it ok
I miss you, mhmm

 

 

I warn everyone who reads me, I’m probably gonna sound really depressing, bitchy, moan-y, groan-y, complaintive, etc., or any combination of the above and more.

I’m seriously scaring myself right now.  I don’t like the thoughts that have been going through my head.  I have these shelves that can stack on top of one another and I asked my mom if she had any dowels I could use to help secure the shelves on top of each other.  Well, she foun d what might have been a reasonable facsimile, but they had to be cut to size.  She gave me the knife and the stuff and after she left, I was looking at that knife, once again wondering, Hell, even picturing blood flowing down my arm from the cut I’d make from that knife.

I picked it up and got it the Hell out of my room.  Heh . . .  My parents have no idea what’s going on.  When I handed it to my mom, she just asked if it had worked for the shelves.

God . . .  I’m scared for my safety.  When I’m alone, Hell, even when I’m with people, my thoughts turn to a memory of Mike at the drop of a hat.  And when I’m alone, it’s even worse.  I don’t remember what was playing on the radio, but I burst into tears upon hearing it.  It kills me, because I virtually can’t listen to any music right now.  Every single song I can think of is something that either reminds me of Mike, or that I related at one point or another to us.  I can’t even listen to Beatles songs . . .

Little Deaths.  It’s something I heard about on the radio when I was driving home Sunday night.  The one who does the show was describing the phrase ‘little deaths’ that he coined.  He meant lost relationships, friendships, lost dreams, hopes, physical abilities, mental abilities, etc.  The kind of things that happen to people every day, that we have to fight to get through, the things that change us as we grow up.  Sometimes the things that make us grow.

Last night, when I burst into tears over memories with Mike, I happened to think of my Nana, and how I got over her death relatively quickly, and why was that?  Why was I still suffering so much over things with Mike when I got over her true, actual, real, ‘I’m-no-longer-on-this-planet’ death so quickly by comparison?

Because I knew that Nana loved me.  I knew, no matter what, that she loved me.  Heck, I wish I knew for sure, but I believe my last words to her were that I loved her.

And I know, no matter what he claims, that Mike hates me.

I’m not even exactly sure what it is I’m mourning where he’s concerned.  Maybe it’s my own failure.  That I wasn’t good enough to take care of him, to really be there for him.  I tried.  I truly did try.  But in trying to deal with my own emotions, my own problems, I failed him, and therefore, lost him.

I just . . .  I just wihs I could have the chance to explain myself where he was really willing to listen and understand my side.  But instead . . .

Instead, he goes on his own way, unwilling to hear anything I have to say.

And I can’t even describe how much that kills me.

I wish I wasn’t worried about my safety.  I wish I could confidently say I was okay.  Or that I really would be all right, even if I wasn’t right now.  But . . .

Right now, it scares me to be in the same room with sharp knives, because I don’t know what I might do with one in my hand.  And it’s not a suicide thing, even though I’m sure it sounds like it.  It’s not.  I don’t want to die.  But I do wish . . .  I wish there was a way to cut away the pain, as impractical as I know that sounds.

Right now, I’m trying to counter the bad moments by telling myself good things.  When a bad memory hits, I try to tell myself things like, ‘If he’s meant to be in my life, somehow, he’ll come back into it.  And if he’s not, then he won’t.’

I can’t even contemplate the notion of giving my heart out to someone else right now.  ::Sighs::  It kills me that for so long, I thought I was over him.  I thought I had him out of my system, it was just a matter of him getting me out of his, and we’d be fine.  It kills me exactly how un-over him I was, and now that I know that, he won’t even talk to me.

He promised me . . .  He said we could go back to being best friends.  He told me that in January of ’06!  And he was lying.  But I was stupid enough to think, to actually believe, that he and I would be the exceptions.  I know everyone says that they’re gonna go back to being friends after they’ve gotten together and broken up, and almost no one means it.  I was stupid enough to believe that Mike meant it, though.  I was actually stupid enough to believe that he and I could go back to that status of best friendship.

I truly do wonder if getting together with him was the biggest mistake of my life thus far . . .  Be

cause when everything finally completely fell apart, it brought the biggest ‘Little Death’ of my life.  And I just wish I knew when I would stop grieving for something I logically know I’ll never have again with someone I logically know I’ll never see again.

Dear God, I miss him . . .