Complications of concession

[popkidville]

Somehow, someone somewhere would write something graphic, moving, beautiful and poignant about me. A feeling of appreciation of my soul, if not of my existence, should greatly emanate. Words, should show I was loved, even in secret.

When that happens, I wouldn't even be there to witness my own eulogy.

Comments

[zero0000]

Don't you just hate it that the only time people write something sincerely touching about your life is when your good and dead? I mean, hello?! Couldn't you have said those things back when I was alive?

Oh and since you probably won't hear what I say about you when you die, let me say it right here. You're a beautiful soul, ate Grace.

You

[anonymous]

So maybe this is the wrong place to write all of these. I've written about you.. somewhere in the vast strings of my life. That girl in the center of her own universe mumbing something about God knows what. In the corner of my eye, I glance at you acting nonchalantly about everything around you.. so casual. Yet I know you have your own issues to deal with. This is something I wish I can contain in the pocket of my heart. I know where I stand.. although often, I cross the line. You're just too much to ask for. I remember you vividly, thus I push the thought at the back of my mind. Intimidating yet so gentle, I give in to listening to you .. for you. Theres something in your eyes that you don't want to reveal..or something I'm afraid to see..something I know not for me. I know I could have written more than I could but thoughts of you linger best when silence strikes again where words are best unspoken. I can say, you know much about things than you already know.. you just don't know you know them yet.. And I, on the other hand will