Writing this in my journal makes it seem so final. Not writing it doesn't make it any less real, but the act of recording it for my future self hurts somehow -- gut-wrenchingly so...
Somewhere between Jan 5th and 17th, Matthew passed away. No idea how to deal with grief & loss. Do I find a counselor somewhere? Going to talk to Lane about it, but she doesn't really fill that role any longer. She is an ODSP worker now.
I guess the reality of Matthew was always kind of silly. How he found me with a format. How he planned to maybe move up here, but didn't want to get a passport. How very different we were. But then he quit smoking for me & then that turns out to be what killed him. It's not my fault, I keep saying. Not that I believe it.
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