It’s been a year. Oh, what a year it has been my friend. So much darkness, so much light. I know, I’m a drama queen sometimes. Can’t help it. It’s not easy wrestling with all this, especially when I have barely anyone to bounce it off. Yes, yes, I know. There are a lot of people who would be there if I just reached out. You were one of them, remember? We drifted apart though. Nothing wrong or even odd about that. So much pain and anger brought bubbling up, just due to being in each others presence. Memories fucking suck, eh? Why don’t I reach out to one of my phillowers (as you called them, lol)? I feel, I do more harm than good when I do that. I feel this incredibly intense pressure to be ok. To be fine, to have won through all the shit. To have nothing else, have gone wrong. I feel like a huge disappointment when things aren’t alright. When I’m not alright. I feel like I’ve failed everyone who ever cared. You know how much I hate to fail at something. You know how fucking stubborn I am.
What am I up to? Been burying myself in everything I can (besides your mother! wait….). I’ve always been better with a full plate. If I’m not overworked, I’m bored. Or high/drunk. I’ve been good on that front as well though. Haven’t gone back to being a straight edge nerd, as you called it. I don’t let things control me though. I’m holding the line. Thought wise, things are…. well, better. Learning to smile again. I pretty much lost my sense of humor though. More like muscle memory now. Stupid quips and jokes, no meat, no substance. It’s hard finding that again. There is still so much anger, sadness and pain. It all boils in me everyday. Not as bad as a year ago, but not gone either. I know it’s my job to be the funny one, or the light as you called it, but that’s hard to do with hole in me. You weren’t the only one to leave, remember? You were just the one that hurt the worst, especially since it was at your own hand.
You fucking idiot. You selfish bastard. I miss you.
I’ve come to make peace with your absence, but I don’t forgive it. The part that frosts me the most, is that you named me. I know you didn’t mean it like that, but you knew damn well how I’d take it. How I’d chew on it, obsess over it. Almost a year later and it’s still one of the first things I think of, when I wake up. Thanks for adding that to the list of things I need to feel guilty over. Prick. Change the subject? No. I can’t. I have to get this out, before things fester again. You left us. You took the easy road out. No, it isn’t easy living with the things we saw, did, became. None of it easy. But you were supposed to push through. You were supposed to fight. Not hurt us all even more.
I still love you though. I still miss you, so much. I hope you finally found peace. At least until I get up or down there (most likely down in our case, heh). I’m going to beat the shit out you, so fucking badly. Then we’ll get a beer and catch up. Until then, I have to let this go. Hence, this letter. I have to be more than I now am. Can’t do that with this ball of pain strapped to my leg. So until we meet again, go fuck yourself asshole.
If you or anyone you is in crisis, get (them) help.