the meaningless beyond

-»one«-

The weeks subsequent to the tragedy of my dear sister's death (it still pains me to call it suicide) went by like a haze. It felt like I was in a car and looking at the scenery outside whizzing by, except the car was going too fast and the scenery was actually a dark looming forest that both terrified and intrigued me. I feel like putting the period of time into words would disrespect my sister beyond the grave, so I'd like to keep it vague, but I am not very good at being so indefinite.

I refuse to believe she committed the act over a petty quarrel, for thinking so would reduce her death down to a spectacle and I didn't want to do that. Though it might have comforted me a bit to know why she did what she did, dwelling on it wouldn't right wrongs. It wouldn't fix the situation. So you won't find me hell bent on finding out the odds and ends of her choices. Those she ultimately took to the grave with her.

I don't really believe bullying had much to do with it though. In this day and age, teenagers care too less about others to tease and poke fun. And they are too broken to let others break them. I just think she was really sad inside. I'm not implying depression, I am no professional. But it takes a certain level of anguish to give in to those thoughts. The ones that people like us, people that go through each day without a struggle, are not even affected in the least by.

I loved my sister dearly. We weren't close in any shape, but we were tolerable and kind on occasion to each other. My throat still stings, weeks after the occurrence, thinking about the days she would laugh and push down her demons. She put on a brave front for me, her friends, family. But it slowly began choking her until she gave in.

I do not hold anything against my dear sister. It would be hypocritical in a way for me to do so. She fought her own battles and sometimes just giving up is the only way you'll win. So she won in her own way. And who am I to hate her for it?

Maybe in twenty years, or sixty, I'll get over this pain, but maybe I'll remember this feeling of utter loss til' the day I die. Whichever the case, I'll always keep her in my heart.

Or at least near the pieces I didn't bury with her that day.

[end.]