I don’t even know anyone who died.

Sure, the friends-dad or granparent or movie star. But I’ve never shaken hands or given a hug to someone who’s gravestone I stood over later.

So standing here, looking at all the gravestones, I’m not sure why I feel like I belong to such an extent.

The grass beneath my feet is a soft green. Not quite the color grass should be, but not far from it. Quite close to my own feelings. She’s not quite the girl I want to be with, but not far from it.

So what am I supposed to do? She’s so right, I have no reason good enough to end things. But it’s so hard, I have no reason right enough to stay where I am.

And so I stand in this graveyard, looking up at the tower, trying to understand. Trying to know what it would be like to look at these stones and feel the pain of loss. What would it be like to lose her? To give her up?

Could I let her go and not wake up every day thinking what if? Can I live with her gravestone in my front yard?

Graveyards give me the chills.

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