I feel like I'm talking to nobody when I write these things. Like nobody comments and it makes me feel like this story is really bad. It probably is. As always please comment. Or even vote if you'd like. I mean you don't have to go that far. *blushes and waves you away* okay this is getting weird. Bye.
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Today is my mother's funeral. I'm dressed up in black. Black sweater. Black jeans. Black shoes. Why do we have to wear only black? That's really depressing and like we don't want to be depressed over the person. Aren't we supposed to find closure or something? Yet we decide to make it worse with the clothing. I wonder if mother would want us to wear all black.

"Ready?" My father asks, sucking in air and letting it out harshly.

I finish tying my shoe. "Ready."

We get into the truck and drive off to the funeral.

• • •

Funerals make me so uncomfortable. The people there are crying and sobbing so loudly and I swear I can hear their snot getting sniffed back up. And the worst part is the dead body. I know it's my mother. I shouldn't be like this. But I feel it's not her anymore.

"I miss her so much," my father chokes out. He's giving his speech.

As I quietly cry, my father walks back to the spot next to me. It's my turn. I can't. But I have to. I walk up to where my father stood a couple of seconds ago and start off my first sentence. I try not to cry while talking but I fail. I can't. I can't accept that she's dead.

After I'm finished with my speech, I place a bouquet of flowers I bought for her and place it next to all the other flowers people have placed upon her coffin.
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Guys I just finished this story called Balconial Conversations and it was on point *-* you should read ittttt. It's super cute and there's a sequel and I'm totally gonna read it. Anyway lookout for the next chapters because I'm planning something. Teehee I don't know why it makes me all giddy. I just realized how inappropriate this is. I'm super happy right after writing a chapter about a funeral. I sound like a psychopath haha.