I Feel Bare. I Didn't Realize I

Why Do People Want To Pretend That Death Is Sleep? It Isn't. It Isn't.

Well, I Already Know What Happened To My Face", I Say. "i Was There. Sort Of

It's Strange To See People You Don't Know Well In The Morning, With Sleepy Eyes And Pillow Creases In Their Cheeks

I Shift From One Foot To The Other, Trying To Get A Good Look At Him. When I Finally Do, I Look Away. His Eyes Were Already On Me, Probably Drawn By My Nervous Movement.

You’re Too Important To Just … Die.” He Shakes His Head. He Won’t Even Look At Me—his Eyes Keep Shifting Across My Face, To The Wall Behind Me Or The Ceiling Above Me, To Everything But Me. I Am Too Stunned To Be Angry. “i’m Not Important. Everyone Will Do Just Fine Without Me,” I Say. “who Cares About Everyone? What About Me?