My feelings are mixed:
all scrambled and confused.
When our tickets matched and we sat next to each other on the plane,
I wonder if God had this all planned.
I can't help but wonder if I failed him.
Did I fail you?
Because the universe put us there.
And I can't help but wonder if we were suppose to save each other.
Were we not meant to stop each other?
Because not even a full month later was I in the hospital clinging to life.
And not a month after that were you saying goodbye to yours.
So it's easy to wonder,
Why was it not me?
Why was it you?
When you asked me to switch spots with you,
so you could have the window seat;
did the world know that that would be the last time you would look down at the Earth from an airplane and not from another plane of existence?
Why was it you?
Because when I saw you in that casket,
my whole body revolted at the idea of death,
and I realized what I could have done to myself that month prior.
So it's easy to wonder;
could I have done that for you?
To the boy whose funeral I just attended:
If I had not lived to see the morning light,
if the group from our trip had invited you to attend the last visual of my body,
if I had died instead,
would that have been enough to stop you?
Would seeing a child's lifeless body be enough to cease the thoughts in your brain?
Because I know it has silenced the screaming in mine.
To the boy whose funeral is today:
I will forever be guilty.
I will forever be grateful.
My feelings are mixed.
