Dear You,
Many days have been spent curled up in bed, blankets pulled over my head, letting no light in when I should have been out with friends, with family, with you. These days should've been spent bathing my pale body in sunlight, warming up to strangers with each exchanged smile and laugh, learning to love with an embracing heart... These days should not have been spent with shaky hands grasping at air as I tried to breath in through a closed- off airway, with numb limbs as I was unsure if I could ever even move them if needed, with a stomach always growling at me to eat when all I could do is lay there staring helplessly at my darkened surroundings. But, as it so seems, much more of my life was spent sleeping the pain away throughout the days, and tossing and turning throughout the nights wondering if I'll ever again be happy.
Many nights have been spent wandering into the cold, winter abyss in nothing but a nightgown covering my frail limbs when I should have been inside sipping on a mug of hot chocolate under a warm blanket; safe. But, life doesn't always work out the way it should, and I spent those nights freezing away until my mom forced me back into the warmth of my house, my shivering body falling into bed in its weakened state; and I spent those nights wondering if I will ever be happy again- like how I used to be: dancing with an upturned face as the grey sky sprinkled my features with little diamonds, singing obnoxiously loud with my hand gliding in the wind as I drive down the highway with my best friends, studying for tests with my head resting in the crook of your lap, your hands playing with my long hair, and our eyes still passionate about life.
Many evenings have been spent choking down a meal of few crackers and a glass of water when I should have been eating a home cooked meal of which only a Mom would approve until I am full of food and full of life once more. Instead I spent these evenings with a burning sore throat as chunks of almost non existent food left my system leaving me shivering and starving for some energy, any energy, but I didn't deserve to eat, I didn't want to eat without you there, so I left my stomach empty and whining; complaining.
Many mornings have been spent falling asleep in an exhausted heap of cold limbs as whimpers escaped my mouth, and my mom called the therapist once again asking for help when I should have been waking up to a bright new day, off to school looking for new experiences and exciting knowledge. However, these mornings were instead spent drooling onto underused pillows, and finally closing overworked and overtired eyes, releasing my tormented brain from the thought of you.
But somehow you found your way into my dreams, leaving tear streaked cheeks and smiling lips in your wake only for me to open my eyes and realize your burning touch upon every inch of my shivering skin and soul was yet again only a dream, a distant memory from a past I wish still remained, but you do not love me anymore. I do not love me anymore...
I used to think of myself as a Goddess with a full, lively body ready for adventure, and a mind of kindness, and hope, and love. Now I'm mangled bones trying to escaped spread- thin skin, intestines shriveling without the nutrients they need, hair falling to the ground in constant suicide missions throughout the day, wrists and legs riddled with lines of hatred, and yellow finger nails hinting that my life is about to stop in the same fashion a yellow light signals traffic to slow to a stop. The only difference, though, is once I stop, there won't be a green light to get me going again. You were my green light until you stopped loving me.
I remember the words I read with blurry eyes from your note, but I can't believe them. Your "I love you so much, but I'm afraid that's not enough to keep me from doing this" was a stab to my heart; your "You get me through the days now, but when you're not there I can't function, and one day you won't be there" was a twist of the knife; your "My love for you will always be as strong as the tides that pulled me under" was the bullet to my brain that finally left me with bloodshot eyes, and a raw throat from screaming your name, and bloody nails from scratching away at my mom's arms when she tried to hold me back, and ringing ears when your mom told me this was all my fault, and an empty, useless soul when I finally got to see your body being lowered into the ground, and I finally realized I never even stood a chance trying to save you, I never even stood a chance trying to love you.
And now it's been a year since your death, your suicide, and I'm writing with unstable fingers a letter you'll never get, and I'm standing by your grave in nothing but my undergarments as the chilled wind freezes my paper thin skin and breakable bones, and I'm holding a bottle of pills in my right hand as my left clutches the flowers I brought for you, and I'm finally realizing why you did it. You loved me, but this feeling ripped you apart until you couldn't breath through the flowers growing in your lungs, until your brain couldn't function around the petals littering your head, until your heart couldn't beat with the depression gripping tight, and, although I tried my hardest fix you, to love you, you were unfixable, beyond repair just as I am now. My love for you was undeniably the best decision of my life until you brutally kicked that chair out from under your feet leaving me with nothing but a note and my memories. Now I bask in the pain that beautiful decision has brought me, and I'm following your path.
You always used to tell me "We'll spend the rest of our lives together, baby, just you and me and our love for each other," and I'm not letting that become a lie.
We'll be together again soon enough. Love always,
Me
