Today was a bad day.
As soon as I opened my eyes I am crying again. All night last night I saw Phillips body.Every time I closed my eyes that's what I saw. I was walking in that room again, reliveing it all over again.My chest hurts too and my eyes are so swollen from crying. I have bags underneath them too. I don't want to talk to anyone today. I walk outside early this morning and the buses passing by tear at my heart. Its so unfair. Phillips supposed to be getting up for school. I hate going outside to smoke a cigarette. Phillip never ever let me go by myself. Every time he would come outside with me and sit there and ask me questions. Questions about my life or things I have done. He thought I was cool. What a joke. I'm not the cool one he is. My thoughts are never far from him. Its freaking torture. Someone asks me , "Do you want some coffee?" I think , Phillip liked coffee, I wouldn't let him drink it though. Someone says, "Are you hungry?" Your joking right? Food? My son cant eat. I hate this....
People are coming and going but I'm not there today. I stay huddled in the corner of the couch with a blanket over my head. All I want to do is cry. I don't want to talk to anyone. I hate the way everyone is looking at me. I don't like being the center of attention. I wanna scream at them that I don't want to be important. Leave me alone.
I don't get dressed. I'm not brushing my hair or putting on makeup. I could care less.
I go back to the accident site and this is really torture. I'm kneeling on the ground and I'm trying to pray trying to something and it hurts so much. I stand up and turn around to face the road and I see so many hands and faces. Right at the moment I turn around is Phillips bus. Full of his friends and co students. They are all waving frantically and the bus driver is honking. That was beautiful, but I can hardly hold my tears in. I don't want the kids on the bus to see me cry so I stand there and I hold it in. And its hard to do , believe me. When they are at a safe distance , I fall to the ground a mess. Ive got dirt all on my pants and hands and I don't care. I hate this place.
Im up almost all night. Its so hard to sleep.I close my eyes and I see horrible things.I pace the house while everyone is asleep. Why cant I feel him? Im his mother shouldnt I feel him or have some connection. I look in the mirror and the reflection scares me. Its been a week and I look like Ive aged 10 years. Really.My hands are sweating all the time. Im constantly rubbing them together to dry them. Why are my hands sweaty? Its dark and its so quiet. I really cant sleep in my room. I guess I can say it now , but my big ole 13 year old was a mommas boy. He slept in the bed with me everynight. I walk in there in the dead...(dead) of the night and my bed is empty.
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