Funeral Blues.

It's the hardest thing in the world to give up on a friend. Shockingly, it's always been so easy for me before, I was never conflicted and I never backed down from what needed to be done. Except this one person is the exception. The only exception to the rule to ever exist for me. I need to see that this person is dead, and only I'm able to remember what was there before all this worthlessness and normality. There was the long lost vulnerability I had looked for in every human being I had ever met. And now it's gone. There is nothing left to cry for. I don't recognize anything here. I'm able to push it down, every now and then when I'm around people, force myself to believe that I remember nothing, that I feel nothing. They're all happy as circus midgets and I'm stuck here in mourning, in some sort of funeral that never ends. I'm the only one wearing black because nobody else knew the truth about this human being anyway. I know what they see and it is enough for them and now it's all that left for me to see too. It shucks, man. I wish I didn't remember. I shouldn't have to remember. It isn't fair. Whoever I am and whatever darkness I have in me, I don't deserve this. I don't want to see. You can't make me see.