The way my heart stops for a fraction of a second every time I think of the day you were murdered.
To know that it is possible to feel like your heart is going to explode, or rip into a million pieces, or slowly stop beating from the stark truth that you are never coming back.
Hoping that my life will cease to exist because the unashamed pain that thrives off of every memory of every inch of you is making death seem glamorous compared to this life that I’m stuck living.
The twinge of terror I feel as I awake, pillowcase soaked in my nightmares of him pointing the shotgun towards me, surrounded by your lifeless bodies.
Knowing things will never be the same, and not just in a small way, but in the biggest way imaginable.
To be so afraid to live for fear of dying.
(iloveyoujenny)
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