ad astra per aspera

I’m angry that I’m alive and that I have to think about things like the temperature the thermostat is set to so that my alive body feels warm enough and angry that I have to eat and angry that I have to sleep and angry that I have to drive and fucking FUCKING angry that he’s not anymore and angry that I’m angry at something so fucking pointless and beyond my control and angry that my home feels like it died with him and angry that I have to carry on because I care, I care that my son has a happy healthy life and angry that I can’t just drink myself until I’m unaware of fucking anything at all or just walk out the door and leave it wide open and walk and walk and walk until there’s nothing, nothing at all, because no matter how good or shitty i feel every fucking day for the rest of my fucking life it won’t ever, EVER change the fact that he is dead and that it will always ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS hurt, it will never not fucking hurt because I loved him and I still love him with a reckless abandon I’ve never known before and will never know again