a memory popped into my head today, of you on my laptop screen singing solsbury hill. i thought a little while about how you used to do that. not all the time, and not consciously either. you'd just half hum, half mumble the faintest bit of whatever 8 count loop was stuck in your head. i can’t ever concentrate with any amount of noise, but your average singing was the only exception. i used to keep a playlist of all the songs you sung to memorialize how it made me feel.

i could never quite make sense of the effect you had on me. you lined my skull with soundproof walls so no turbulent thought could escape. you seemed so content with existing and it placated me, sedated my chaos. the way you spoke, the way you moved, like you lived in a bottle of syrup, like it was easy just to float there. you were my calm. things were so still. i haven't been able to find since you've been gone. i was so in love with you that you made me fall in love with living too.

we called one last time before this wrongness settled in. and i knew that i was standing on the other side of the wall, separated from something dark and cold, this era devoid of you and your light. i tried to enjoy those final moments but i couldn't, not when i knew all these things that you didn't, not when i knew we'd be crushed in a couple days time. we were doing a lab. we finished an hour early. and i could tell you knew, deep down, that the moment you hung up, it would all be over. we sat in silence for so many minutes. picked our nails. fiddled with pens. and then you grabbed your guitar, and played two reverse over and over. i crossed my arms to rest them on my desk, and i lay my head down on top and closed my eyes, and my heartbeat slowed for the very last time. you played, and you sung a little bit too. and it felt like a final goodbye.

i want to stop this. i want to stop writing about you so badly. but it's all i've got left, this long drawn-out emotional debrief. i wish i didn't have to admit you're the reason this site exists. it's stupid how much power you still have over me.