I want to care, but I don’t. I look at you and all I feel is tired.

I want to care, but I don't. I look at you and all I feel is tired. I walk through school and all I want to do is leave. I wake up in the morning and don't know why I'm here. I feel like I'm not real.

I see what grief does, how it strips you bare, shows you all the things you don't want to know. That loss doesn't end, that there isn't a moment where you are done, when you can neatly put it away and move on.

But the past couple of days I’ve missed you so much it’s felt like missing you is all I am.

Check it out. I got a new name tag today." He unclipped it and held it out toward me. I looked at it. "A. GUY." He grinned. "Someone actually asked me what the A stood for," he said, his hand brushing mine as he took the tag back, sliding it into his pocket. "I said Larry.

I want to care, but I don’t. I look at you and all I feel is tired.

I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t think he’d ever really notice me, and in the end, he didn’t.