I know some tears would be in order here. I mean, Claire just died, she was my friend, Goddamnit! I hear the news and I sit with everyone else, watching them dissolve.

I know I'll disintegrate later, sometime when I least expect it.
In middle of chemistry class.
Watching t.v. next week.
Reading a story to my niece.

It's not that I don't feel the pain. I think it might be shock, I am thinking disassociating and observing.
Heather really looks ugly when she cries.
I wonder what's for lunch?
So does this mean we have school the rest of the day?

I wish I could cry, wish I could feel that enormous relief of having let it out, but I sit here numb and let my mind wander.

When my grandfather died, it was the same thing. I hung up my coat, nodded at my mother, and went to my room to do my homework. I didn't react properly until the next day on the playground, I dropped the stick I was trailing around and burst into messy sobbing. I was 10. I was 17. No difference.

I'm 21 now, and I still don't respond instantaneously. I fight the pain and tears, knowing it'll help to let go, refusing to give in, maintaining a composure that will disintegrate when I least expect it.