While I was in Thailand, I got a tattoo on my ribs that says “Only we know”.

Since Russ died, I can’t tell you the amount of people that have let slip what others have said about us. All speculation, nothing concrete, just people trying to make sense of such a tragedy and the conversations surrounding that seem to be about me, what I’m up to and of Russ and my relationship. I suppose this is the case with just about anything really, people just talk for the sake of talking, but as I’ve been so focused on survival, any little thing that gets said and then subsequently shared with me whether by accident or because the old me wouldn’t have thought much of it, makes me question everything.

In truth, it’s really fucking unfair to have to doubt something if even for a second. Mainly when it’s not true which most of it isn’t. I still have to think about it for a second though because my broken mind now needs to encourage its way out of that shit where it didn’t have to before.

I’ve been offended more times than I can count since he died and it’s just me left here having to figure what to do with that information. Like the time I wrote about where people had a bitch fest about how I’d left the party thrown in his honour at 10pm instead of when everyone went to bed. I’d been there since 9am, I left with OUR friends and I left to go and dance, because dancing makes me feel good. Russ would never have judged me for that, but others felt the need to. 

I sometimes wonder how he’d react to some of the things people have said about me, him and us. I know in some cases, he’d tell me to ignore them but I know that some of them, he’d have wanted to throw punches – especially the stuff that’s made me cry unnecessarily.

Truth is, we knew what we had. Only we know. 

I’ve tried so hard to do this grief thing with him in mind. What would Russ do? What would he want me to do? What would he tell me to do right now? There has to be points though where it’s ok for me to do things that I want or I feel suit me moving forward.

People like to talk and honestly, even this far down the track, I feel watched. What is she doing now? I’m surviving, actually. I’m living my life, just like you. I’m just trying to get through this minute, hour, day, week. I’m doing what I want to do. Why is it ok for people to do what they want to do but everyone gets to have an opinion on me?

Fuckers.
Only we know. And that’s the end of that.