A Boy And His Box

Hold On. Please.

Hey.
I have an announcement for the few people who actually read and enjoy my poems. I unfortunately won't be updating for a while. I've had hard couple of weeks since the new year started. I need to refocus my life and make sense of a lot things I thought I had figured out. I don't know when I'll come back, maybe after I get into college. I still have a few drafts I'll finish when I get a chance. I just wanted to thank Des and Imp for your support. It's ment way more to me then either of you will ever know. As for why I'm taking a step back, this poem should explain it.
Thank you, for everything.

1998-2017
Rest up Liam.

I've held on, for so long.
I don't remember how it even started.
I just remember falling.
Tumbling down into a void.
I caught myself.
I've been holding on every since.
My knuckles have whiten.
My hands are shakey.
At times all I've wished was to let go.
To be rid of this burden.
But I've held on.
And that's what you should have done.
I was so furious when I found out.
I couldn't speak.
I skiped new years and went to bed.
I awoke an hour after the ball dropped trying my best to forget the world existed.
I remember how we met.
You made the idoctic statement on some random fourm that Digimon was better then Pokémon.
Even though I wasn't the World's biggest Pokémon fan I felt the knee jerk reaction to slap you in the mouth for saying probably the dumbest thing I heard all week.
We quickly got into a back and forth about it for about 3 hours.
It end surprisingly calmly for a typical internet argument.
You ended you point about digimon building more deep and personal relationships between partners and I ended my argument by saying "Yeah but the mewtwo movie tho."
We agreed to disagree even though I still think I won that argument.
We start chatting occasionally talking about our days, tossing jokes at each other having a laugh. Not realizing I just became friends with someone who would literally change my life.
One day you caught me in a bad mood and I just told you everything.
I told about my depression, my deep hatred for my step father, the feeling of being alone on a crowded room, feeling like worthless fuck up.
I don't know why I told you that,but I did.
You told me how you felt the same at times. How this world just wasn't meant for you. How you felt like alien in your own home.
I told you how sometimes I would catch myself staring in my medicine cannot as if I were looking for something, but never found.
You told me how sometimes you would stare at the safe where your father kept the gun.
We didn't talk much after that, we did more like check ups to see how we were doing. You told me your father moved the gun somewhere else and and how upset you were when he did. I responded with, " at least you have a father."
Which then you profusely apologized as I couldn't stop laughing.
I told you to keep your chin up.
Shit just gets better like it did for me.
Getting a hobby makes it way easier. The last time we spoke, you told me you took up DJing. That you had a couple songs and remixes on the way. That everything was looking up. That you weren't going to be some nobody scrawny pastey white kid from Nor Cal.
I was so happy for you.
What happened?
What changed since the last time we spoke?
Where did it all go so wrong?
One of my closest friends was someone who was miles apart.
Without a word he was gone.
Your mother told me that you killed yourself a week before Christmas. That in your note you wanted to let all of your friends to know that you were sorry. You made a special note for me with your password to tell me.
I blocked you.
I didn't want her to tell me anymore.
I wanted to believe it was joke, but I know you far to well for it to be a joke.
I wish it could have ended differently.
I wish I got too hear your song.
I wish you told me how heavy the world had gotten so could help carry it.
I wish I could have met you in person.
We held on for so long.
And now.
I have to hold on, for the both us.