To say that this post isn’t easy to make would be an understatement, but I really just wanted to get these feelings of my chest somehow, someway, and maybe in a more health way then I have in the past.
Let’s call my friend Alex. Alex committed suicide. I’m grieving. I think. Maybe not. Me grieving involves a lot of self hate, self harm, drugs, and what ifs. What it doesn’t include is healing, acceptance or understanding.
So here I am. And I can’t really explain how exactly I’m feeling but honestly I’m not feeling great. I’m feeling alone, angry, hurt, stupid, like a failure and many many other things.
With suicide brings so many what ifs. What if I would have done this differently, or what if I would have said this, or what if … and unfortunately we will never have answers to those what ifs. To be honest not very many people have come to me for comfort in this, but one person did.
And well it was hard. All I could tell this person was it wasn’t their fault, they could have never known, and they did the best the could. But for me I could never believe those words.
I replay Alex’s words in my head. I replay their constant reminder how loved I was, and how much they cared about me. I remember the nights I wanted to die, and they helped me find my will to live, and they kept me fighting.
But that leaves me with the big question… Where the hell was I when Alex needed me??? Where was I? That question will forever haunt me.
You would think that the pain from this would make me want to live, and live on his memory, but in all reality it made me want to die. It makes me want to go home and be with him, cause well he needs me. If I couldn’t save him the least I can do is go be with him.
Sincerity, a very broken soul