september 2nd, 2021.

september second.

god, i still hate that day.

it feels different, now. the grief doesn’t weigh as heavily on my old shoulders as much as it used to.

but that same alarm still screams at me, this time, for a different purpose.

i not-so-gracefully clamber out of bed, every bone in my back and my knees crackling in protest. must’ve worked hard yesterday.

i stumble into my bathroom, scrubbing at the stubble at my face, trying to wipe away the dark circles under my eyes. after that, i pull on my mud-stained jeans and a band shirt older than i am.

i get into my rustbucket of a truck just before the sun rises, getting some nasty, hour-old coffee from a small diner. after that, it’s off to work. a ritual i’ve ingrained into myself now that i’m an adult.

it reminds me of going to school. falling into the same mundane routine, pushing myself through the motions of it all.

i still see things about you. i still get texts, shallow apologies for something i lost almost five years ago.

but i still expect that call.

i expect a call down to the superintendent’s office, something i was terrified about, because what could i have possibly done wrong a few weeks into freshman year?

i expect to be told to be strong, shaken by my shoulders and promised that some unseen, omnipotent god was watching over me. that i needed faith.

i still don’t wear ripped jeans.

i hate the colors teal and purple.

i can’t stand to hold a gun anymore.

and every september second, i listen to hail to the king. it’s starting to grow on me, i think. 

i still wish that i would’ve listened to you talk more about that band. they’re my favorite, now. i’ve seen them live more times than i can remember.

i still wish that we could’ve gotten a few more rounds over screaming over a video game in.

i wish i would’ve stayed up later that night. that i told you that i loved you. that i could’ve had a chance to say goodbye.

i still dread that day. a stark reminder that you’ve been gone for half a decade and counting. a promise that i’m a year closer to seeing you again.

i just wish that you were here. just for another september.

-m.