As I lie here and try to recollect all of the memories we've spent together, I seem to find myself still smiling regardless of the things that have happened. I can't decide weather to be happy about the times we shared, or dread the decision you made. While I lay here wide awake taking comfort in the fact that you're in a 'good-place' that just isn't good enough closure for me. I often wonder as I sit, wide awake if there was anything I could have done to prevent your monstrosity from wondering that late cold night. The fact that I was with you
just the night before and you told me that you would be my friend forever didn't seem enough to make you stick around for a bit with me.
Which brings me to my next point, what is forever? According to the Webster dicttionary: verlastingly: for a limitless time. So why would you promise me something that you surely could not give back?? Seems to be a pattern in my life someone tells you the will love you forever or be your friend 'forever' why do we seem to always promise the unattainable? And why do we constantly believe when people say this word to us? It seems to reassuring, so overwhelming and so perfect! It seems to be countless amounts of times that I have been told I was loved and literally the next day they turn their back on me, weather it's a friendship or relationship, I still don't find comfort in forever.
Ugghh, the frusteration of having so many dead friends is almost explainable, its like you forever about it and than BAM the smallest reminder comes up and all of a sudden your week is ruined, you think about one; a slit wrist, a hanging, a swalled razor blade, that's just the beginning though. By Tuesday your still blaiming yourself for the ex who overdosed. There's times that I wish I was never even their friends. They have no idea how their lives have touched me or made me feel or the effect their death has had on me. I could write about this for eighteen hours.
I found myself quite alarmed when a recent someone in my life told me that he was going to off himself. Its hard. I wish he could see exactly how much of my life was ripped apart. Or that I could bring him to see Brett's mother, the mess that she has been since her son committed almost 3 years ago now. Or perhaps bring him over to my Aunts house, Her son committed 6 years ago, she still hasn't left her bedroom. Or how about I give him a piece of me, a glimpse into the cold heart I carry around. When those words poisoned his lips I wanted to show him my scars soo bad, let him run his gentle fingers down my fore arm and feel the limps or tendon's and muscles and internal scaring that the pain of others suicide have had on me. If you ever read this, you SURELY will know who you are. But I don't think you're dumb for saying it, just selfish.
So to all of those who I have lost over the years to suicide, almost ten of you. Rest in peace, I hope you are still guiding me or watching over me in some sense. Please pull me through these hard things, and keep me headed on the right track.
Its crazy how a simple dream can cause so much commotion in my life.
