Beginning.

Micah died. Micah died. Micah died.

I write those words over and over again, but somehow they don't seem true. They don't register. They don't make sense. I hate them. They roll off my brain and refuse to stick; refuse to settle. Instead, they sit at the tip of my tongue, ready to be spit out, as if that would make everything go away. Make everything disappear and bring my normal, happy life back.

I am starting this blog hoping that it will bring some clarity. To both myself and others. It's been such a long, long month and everyone asks me how I'm doing. "How are you doing?" Well. Hmm. Let's see. I'm sorry that answer couldn't be obvious enough. My boyfriend just died, actually. So actually, I'm doing pretty terrible. Actually, some days are so difficult to get out of bed that my mom has to sit beside me for 20 minutes. Actually, this is as close to hell as I could ever imagine. Does that answer your question?

Truthfully, this blog is how I'm doing.

Sometimes I'm good. Sometimes I'm bad. Actually, I'm always bad, but sometimes its a good-bad, or at least an ok-bad. Sometimes I laugh; sometimes I cry. Sometimes I laugh-cry, or cry-laugh. It truly depends on the second.

So bear with me as I start this.

And on a final note, today (would be?) is our 1 year, 8 months anniversary of dating. We rock. I love you Micah!