Requiem For A Dream // Phan

24; Maybe if I said something to him, he'd be alive.

**TW**

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   I don't understand what went wrong. What had happened to make him take his own life? I don't understand it, how can life get so fucking bad, that you end everything? That's something I have never understood. Yes, so many times I had those thoughts, those over dramatic thoughts when something didn't go my way, but holy shit I would never actually do it. I wouldn't be able to.

   I was a coward then, and I'm a coward now. Even when things went the utmost worst, I would never attempt ending my life because of it. Shit, the people around me wouldn't even let me think about suicide. If I ever, just slap me in the fucking face because that is not the person I am.

   I am all for power and staying in control. I have to control how my life goes and if something does go wrong, or not my specific liking, I suck it up and move on. Even though I haven't been handling things the way people had liked but hell, if you don't like it, then you don't have to be here.

   Now don't get me wrong, I'm not telling anyone that is suicidal to "suck it up" but fuck, I find it very stupid to be like that. But then I realize, That's all in the mind, there is something wrong with them. Because happy people just don't suddenly want to fucking mutilate themselves and end their life. Unless, of course, they weren't happy in the first place. But sometimes I think, okay, they're in pain, but do they know?

   I'm guessing they would know that they're in pain being a logical person, why the fuck wouldn't you get some help? If you know that you're suffering, why would you just wanna keep it to yourself? Most of these motherfuckers think that they're 'burdening' you with their problems, now if I asked you whats wrong, and I was genuinely concerned, and you're truly one of my closest friends, and you don't tell me whats up, it could be potentially heartbreaking. Because someone is fighting for you, and doing everything to make you happy and yet you're too blind to fucking realize. And then you lay in your bed, and you say, 'I have no one' 

   I find that very disrespectful because I am not noone, last time I checked, my opinion mattered, and I was a real person, so for you to say that you have no one, hurts. Some people don't know what the fuck they're even saying because they're too invested in themselves to realize that they have lots of people. And you know whats fucked up? The people who claim they have no one, have SO MANY FUCKING PEOPLE FIGHTING FOR THEM. I don't get it. And I don't think I ever will.

   So to think that Patrick wrote this letter, apologizing his ass off for someone he barely knows and saying how much-undisguised pain he was in, really fucking hurt. That kid was gonna be something in my eyes, I didn't think He'd be able to even think about that, but now that I realized what he had looked like when he talked to me, I had realized that he was going through some silent fucking pain. I remember it clearly, his eyes were sunken to the back of his fucking head. He was paler than anyone I have ever met, and hell, I had met Phil. I didn't think anyone could ever be a shade lighter than that fucker.

"So what happened the night you left?" Phil came in the kitchen, pouring himself some coffee. Not really looking at me.

"Nothing much, just found out some news. Nothing to worry about." I have been ignoring him most of the morning, and last night when I came back.

"What kind of news?" Nosy Fuck.

"Just know that we don't have to go back to rehab. I got it under control." I said, I was scrolling through Twitter, avoiding eye contact.

"Look, I'm sorry for everything I said. I really do trust you, now that I actually thought about it."

"Thanks, I appreciate the apology."

"Whats up? I know somethings up, usually, when I apologize, you're back to normal . . . "

"So you're saying I kiss ass? Maybe I don't forgive you this time." I snapped. I was extremely angry but hell, none of this was about him. He just happens to be here at the wrong time.

"Hey, I said I was sorry. I say things I don't mean sometimes, out of all people you should understand me."

"Whatever, I'm going out." I said and got my jacket. I heard him sigh and set his cup down.

"Where?"

"To the bar, get the hell off of my dick." I don't think that was the right thing to say. I saw him turn around and sigh shakily, but I was so angry that I didn't give a fuck anymore.

Maybe I just needed a drink.

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All those things said about suicide and it being selfish was only because he was angry, not what he really thinks of suicide.