We Write for Fear of Silence

This is not the end

(A/n: This is a suicide note I had written a super long time ago that I found it recently)

To whom this may concern...

I love you. I love my family, the ones who were there for me and loved me no matter what, my friends, my fellow humans on this earth. Well, not fellow humans anymore; because if you're reading this I am gone. But I don't want this note to be all about my death (even if that is why you're reading) I want to talk about my life, about all the small, beautiful things I saw each day. The robins and sparrows that grace my lawn in the morning, when the dew still coats the grass. Everything moves around me, but I can still look up and the stars and the clouds will be there. Shining in the sky. My only constant. The music that kept me alive for so long. Love. Passion. I am a poet, a good one, or so I'm told. I love to read and write. That is my passion. Maybe someone will read my writing after I'm gone. The only thing is that lately I have only been able to write about pain. Maybe because that's all I feel anymore. I have to keep myself busy, because if I don't I'll go right back to thinking about everything I've ever messed up in my life and it hurts."Be strong" is such an easy thing to tell someone. Especially if you don't know what it's like to hurt as so many other people do. But if you do know misery and suffering and staying up until 3 am every night because you can't stop thinking about how much you hate yourself then you will understand that telling someone to "be strong" is so much easier said than done. But even knowing that I try so hard to be strong. So so hard. The books I read tell me to be strong. They help me. But its just too much. The books I read are one of my favorite things not only because of the stories they tell, but also because I can emerse myself in another world. Books are my alcohol. Writing my drugs. Painting my oxygen, the acrylic my blood. They make me forget. I have a quote I love: 'books are for people who want to be somewhere else." I do want to be somewhere else. I just don't know where, I really don't know. Sorry if you were hoping for a clear reason for everything you're reading. There are so many, but at the same time I don't have one. I can be a very indecisive person. I have many flaws. You probably don't want to hear them, but this is the last time you'll hear from me, so I figure I'll tell you anyways while I still have your attention. Please do not call me selfish. Or cowardly. Or stupid. I have my reasons. This notes purpose Is to tell you what they are. Remind you, one last time, of who I am. I hope you don't talk about me in past tense. I will be here Still. I think earth is an exquisite place. But as a human I just don't fit in. I believe in ghosts. Maybe that's how I'll end up. But I don't want to blame anyone for my choice. So please, anyone reading this, do not blame yourself. I had to hide. Hide behind long jeans and sweaters. Behind mascara and concealer and smiles. I eventually got tired of it. I don't want to die. I want to live, so badly. It hurts me so much that I'll never find love now. But I hurt so much being alive. I feel lost. I feel like singing. Breathing. Loving. But all I am is pain. And that's no way to live. Thank you for loving me. I love you. Please don't forget me. Please don't regret me. I'm so sorry. There is no good way to say goodbye, to end something. You can't take back the words you never said. And I am sorry I'll never be able to say anything again. I do not delude myself into thinking these final words will be enough and for that I'm sorry, I'm so so so sorry that I hurt you if reading this is, in fact, hard. I'm sorry. I love you. Be good to one another. And never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting. Remember to come look for me in the stars one day. I'll be waiting. have strength when i am gone, and always. Strength is not measured in numbers, but in how we get up after falling. Have strength.
~Blue