Do you know what it's like to walk in on your best friend lying dead on the floor? The way his body slumped against the porcelain, his face a deathly grey. The light tiles almost matched his skin colour. You keep expecting a breath, even the slightest movement of the chest, for them to move or...I share your pain, your shock, in finding me. He took a stomach full of pills, the same ones I'm about to take. It's a tribute to him, in a way. A reminder that he was there with me till the end. I miss him. A lot. His smiles, his laughs, his jokes, even when they weren't funny. Go see a therapist, if you're reading this. It eats you from the inside if you don't. At least I have the decency to leave a note.
'Maybe that's what you need, heh?' I say to myself jokingly, my eyes still trained on the paper.
After that, I don't really know where my life lead. These past few years have been a blur. Sure, I could get any girl I wanted, but I didn't want that. I barely pushed through my second year at university. I know it was only a Creative Writing major, but there's only so many ways you can speak about death. I'm in my fourth year now, and they don't take that shit anymore.
'And there's only so many times you can watch the Professor hand you back an A.' I tell myself, wanting somebody to be beside me to share all of this with. I didn't have the pills at the time, but there was someone else I found willing to be my drug.
I was dating this girl, you know. She was absolutely beautiful, and brilliant. Fucking brilliant. We dated for 14 months. You'd think, after 14 months, I'd feel something more than friendship. I know she did, but I just played a role. Her kisses were perfect, her body even more so. She distracted me from that void in my heart, so empty of emotion and feeling.
I miss her, you know.
I push my eyes away from the paper and stare at my writing. 'Is this really what I want somebody to read? You did really have the time of your life with her, remember? The way you were made for each other perfectly, even when you broke up.'
Maybe I'm insane for hating it. I mean, my parents said I am. The ones who raise you, the one who are supposed to love you no matter what? What happened to them?
What happened to me?
