Psychotically Sane

Visitation on Wednesday. Funeral on Thursday.

I’m scared of seeing her. I’m scared of going to her funeral. I’m scared of realizing that she is in fact gone.

I’m in a delusional state and I’m pretty sure that she’s on vacation. She turned off her phone and is enjoying relaxing on the beach somewhere. But she’ll be back soon. We will enjoy a nice lunch at Qdoba. She will order her usual Naked Burrito and I will get my summer usual Mango Chicken Salad (especially since mangos are now in season). We’ll chit-chat like old times. And she will be smiling, because that’s how she looked the last time I saw her. She was smiling, ecstatic over life. Everything was going great, she had so much going on…

I never received the fucking message from Angela Sunday night. Never received the fucking call from her son late Sunday night. It was a fucking dream.

I think I need to delusion myself into a dream world. Or drink myself silly since it is Cinco de Mayo (or as Trish called it, Cinco de Drinko) and sleep till Friday. I’m tired of putting on my brave face.

I want to fucking cry.

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