I hope you choke on every damn cigerette you smoke. I hope the deathly clouds fill up your lungs and make you splutter and gasp for air, like a burning toxic gas of hate and you can't understand why such an ancient habit of yours causes you so much pain, only to have the realisation that it is because it burned her throat and you're replacing her presence with your own actions, your body mimicing hers to surivive in her absence. I hope you as you sit outside that party wasted, draining every last drop of her favourite drink, your throat is flooded with the taste of her drunken lips and you feel your enitre being crack in half and you stare into a puddle and see her, wide eyed and staring back, and as you look into the increasingly emptying bottle you realise why you bought her favourite drink even though she is gone. I hope you when you see her new love, try to hate him with the same passion you loved her, but you cannot, try as you might, feel ill towards the new reason behind her sunray smile. And I hope, god I hope, evrything you do confuses you for a moment, every time you listen to her music or watch her favourite film you question why understand why you torture yourself, only to the again realise that in a hopeless effort to survive without her, you tried to become the closest anyone could ever be to her. The one person who's world will from the moment they were born to the minute of their death center around her. You tried to become her.
mariet