4 months.

4 months. 16 weeks. 122 days.

I could say I'm doing better, but I'm not. I miss you more every day, and time is not helping. August is a hard month. You should be at trap nationals, shooting right beside me. I should be taking you to college, helping you buy books and setting up your schedule. We should be eating at Nakatos every weekend, because you'll miss it when your gone. We should be planning what wrestling meets and tournaments I can come to. We should be planning for our skiing trip and spring break. We should be sitting in your basement, and I should be telling you what to do on whatever video game your playing. We should be watching every season of The Walking Dead and singing along to Phantom of the Opera. We should be crying because it's going to suck living hours apart. Instead, I'm constantly reminded that I'll never get to do those things. I'm stuck in a place where I have to look at reminders of you. I love thinking about you, and it's probably a good thing I do because you're permanently on my mind. I hate being reminded that I don't have you anymore. I hate that I feel jealous of people pretending they knew you, when I know they really didn't. I hate that you never knew how many people truly loved you. I hate that we always laid on my bed and talked about not having any friends, when so many were there for you. Who would've known that you really had thousands of friends. I feel bad for anyone who tries to get close to me right now, every one gets compared to you. That's a lot to live up to. There was nothing you could do, to make me give up on you.

It's amazing, the things I would do for one more day with you. I'm so burnt out right now. I'm tired. I don't want to go back to school, even though I know I have to. I don't want to try. I wish I did. I wish I had a back up plan. I wish I had some kind of plan. I'm so ready to get away from this place. I don't mean Willard, I mean this place I'm in, in life. I don't know how to do that. I don't know that I can get away. I'm basically stuck. I'm not able to move on. I don't think I'm ever going to fully move on. I've gotten better at laughing and allowing myself to have fun. But there's just those moments, where all I want to do is go back to when I had you. I knew everything about you, that's why I know when someone is lying about really knowing you as a best friend would. I know your favorite songs, your favorite movies, all the girls you had crushes on, your favorite drink, what sushi you would order, your real laugh and your fake laugh, your different smiles, everything. Maybe, that's what I really truly miss, knowing someone that well. Everything was so easy. I miss that easiness. I miss that sheer joy I felt when you came over to cheer me up when I was sick. I miss feeling calm when I knew you were okay. I miss you annoying me whenever you could. I miss feeling strong. I feel broken, even though I'm just a little cracked. I'm trying my hardest to glue myself back together. It's just so much harder than I would have imagined.

It's weird, when I thought about what I would do if one of my friends died, it was never you, and it was never this response. I imagined I'd lock myself up in my bed for a week, cry on everyone's shoulder, and be grateful for my own life. When you died, I had to go to your house and make sure. I had to see your mom. I had to comfort those boys, they needed me. I had to be a selfless. I cried on a few shoulders, but kept a smile as best as I could. I'm not that grateful, I'm grateful you don't have to deal with this. I'm thankful for the people who have stayed by my side. I'm thankful you brought me to Jean Ann, she's helped more than I can describe. It's a little weird, buying all pink, when you only wore it to make people uncomfortable. I remember when we went down to Neosho for Melynn, and convinced Zach and Trevor you were gay. I drove down there alone for the first time since then a couple weeks ago for her birthday. She misses you too.

I have no idea what this blog will look like in a 8 months. I'm not sure it will be much different. Sometimes I go sit by your grave after work. I don't talk, because I've never been one to talk to the ground, but I feel peaceful. I feel safe with you there. I still day dream about you showing up and telling me you had to fake your death for some unreal reason. I wish that could really happen. It's hard to see people moving on and getting over it, when I'm not even close to over it. I know I don't need you here, but it would sure make things easier.

I love you, and I miss you more than words alone can describe.

Your best friend,
Megan