I hate May. I've struggled with this month more than what I deem necessary. Today is the last day I will be 27. I really don't want to age another year. September is gonna be a down month as I may end up outliving him and that just erks me. When I was 16 I was fixated on the age 28. Maybe there is an underlining fear of this year for me. Part of me has dismissed my fear as already being realized. He died at 28. My idea is that due to our deep soul connection I had already known when he was going to leave. However I had the misconception that the mark of 28 was for me not someone else. I keep his doomsday prediction to the vest in case it is for me, clearly not for him. All of these morbid thoughts are keeping me motivated me to do as much as possible with the time I suspect I have left.
I can say without a doubt in my mind that 27 was the worse year of my life. There is no argument here. Diagnoses, death, and the aftermath of his absence has been pure torture. Its not gonna stop, the torture. So 28 doesn't look to damn cheery for me. I can only tell myself I am one day closer to being back with him.
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