Right, there's not much people know about me, except some. I've been having a really hard time for me the last few years. Therefore I am writing a story about it, most of the happenings are based on what actually happened, some things have been altered.
Warning: Do not read this if you are sensitive to negative thoughts and/or suicidal thoughts.
Comments are appreciated, but keep in mind that this is very personal, so pharse them appropriately.
Warning: Do not read this if you are sensitive to negative thoughts and/or suicidal thoughts.
Prologue
Dear Emma,
It has been two years and a week since you committed suicide. No day has passed that I didn’t think of you, that I haven’t missed you. You were the only one that ever truly understood me, what I was going through. Nobody understands now, people try to help, but they just make things worse.
I saw it coming, I knew the day was going to come, just not when. I often wonder if there wasn’t something I could’ve done. Perhaps, if I had kept my promise, you would still be here, perhaps things would have been different.
People try to tell me it’s not my fault, but they don’t understand. You know what I mean. They say things are okay, but they are not. That there wasn’t something I could have done, because you had already made up your mind, they are wrong.
Remember the day you saved me? It was in the winter and I was feeling particularly horrible. I took a walk to a nearby park, stood near the pond and almost threw myself in, making sure I wouldn’t get out. The last second before I did that, I thought of what you said. I still remember the words. “Please don’t do it, you don’t want to. Your parents love you, just like I do.”
It was the first time you said that. I still remember them to this day, repeating them to myself, making sure I never forget. I cannot forget, I may not forget.
Remember all the fun we had? Building up our own server, trying to make it work. Talking about music, games, books, especially the Inheritance cycle, we were both great fans of Paolini’s work. Every time I see the books or think about them, reminds me of you, of the good times. I still remember our song, When it Rains, by Paramore.
You were crazy, probably the craziest person I ever met. I liked that about you. There wasn’t a thing I didn’t like.
And you said you loved me. And I said I loved you and we’d be happy together. I would come to you, you would come to me. Just a few more months. Nobody knows, I never told anybody. I was afraid of being despised. I no longer care now. Two years I’ve tried dealing with it, I never could.
Until this very day I miss you and I always will. I feel so alone, I can’t seem to find my way out of this low. No it don’t seem right, I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
I hope that, by writing this letter, at least a part of me will find closure. I try so hard moving on, but I can’t. I wish you were still here, it pains me knowing I will never see you again. I hope you are in a better place.
Love,
Me.
Chapter 1
It was a dark winter night when the young man sat in his room. He was sitting on his bed, laptop on his lap, writing about how he felt.
It was one of the tasks a psychologist assigned to him to help him cope with his feelings. The young man suffered from severe depressions. Its cause was unknown to everybody, nobody knew, not even the young man.
He knew something that was wrong. He missed a friend, one who had killed herself. Through thick and thin they supported each other, helped each other as they suffered from their depression. They were the same. Living a world apart, they had the same problems in their life. Problems nobody but them understood. They barely had any friends, but at least they had each other. Until two years ago, when the young man’s friend committed suicide.
After two years, he still hadn’t dealt with the thought. Countless times since has he thought of ending it himself, always stopped by the thought she would be disappointed. It had kept him alive.
Right now he was getting better. Bad thoughts still entered his head, but the young man knew what to do when they came in. He knew how to be strong enough to deal with the thoughts.
While the young man was sitting on his bed, his girlfriend came into the room. Her face showed that she was happy about something, but he didn’t know what. He knew that he didn’t want to talk right now. He just wanted to sit here, thinking about his friend, the only person that ever understood him.
At some point, the young man snapped. “Will you just shut up!?” He yelled at his girlfriend. She looked slightly surprised at the sudden outburst, which was not uncommon. Then, deciding not to argue, lay down on the bed without saying a word, closing her eyes.
The young man knew he went too far again. As soon as that thought entered his head, his brains started spinning. Thinking. Thinking so fast he couldn’t comprehend all the thoughts that came up. The only thing that stuck was that he screwed up again.
The young man got up, mad at himself and everybody else. He walked to the door of his room, opened it, and slammed his head against the side of the door. It hurt like hell, but he knew his head would calm down. He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Dear Emma,
It has been two years and a week since you committed suicide. No day has passed that I didn’t think of you, that I haven’t missed you. You were the only one that ever truly understood me, what I was going through. Nobody understands now, people try to help, but they just make things worse.
I saw it coming, I knew the day was going to come, just not when. I often wonder if there wasn’t something I could’ve done. Perhaps, if I had kept my promise, you would still be here, perhaps things would have been different.
People try to tell me it’s not my fault, but they don’t understand. You know what I mean. They say things are okay, but they are not. That there wasn’t something I could have done, because you had already made up your mind, they are wrong.
Remember the day you saved me? It was in the winter and I was feeling particularly horrible. I took a walk to a nearby park, stood near the pond and almost threw myself in, making sure I wouldn’t get out. The last second before I did that, I thought of what you said. I still remember the words. “Please don’t do it, you don’t want to. Your parents love you, just like I do.”
It was the first time you said that. I still remember them to this day, repeating them to myself, making sure I never forget. I cannot forget, I may not forget.
Remember all the fun we had? Building up our own server, trying to make it work. Talking about music, games, books, especially the Inheritance cycle, we were both great fans of Paolini’s work. Every time I see the books or think about them, reminds me of you, of the good times. I still remember our song, When it Rains, by Paramore.
You were crazy, probably the craziest person I ever met. I liked that about you. There wasn’t a thing I didn’t like.
And you said you loved me. And I said I loved you and we’d be happy together. I would come to you, you would come to me. Just a few more months. Nobody knows, I never told anybody. I was afraid of being despised. I no longer care now. Two years I’ve tried dealing with it, I never could.
Until this very day I miss you and I always will. I feel so alone, I can’t seem to find my way out of this low. No it don’t seem right, I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
I hope that, by writing this letter, at least a part of me will find closure. I try so hard moving on, but I can’t. I wish you were still here, it pains me knowing I will never see you again. I hope you are in a better place.
Love,
Me.
Chapter 1
It was a dark winter night when the young man sat in his room. He was sitting on his bed, laptop on his lap, writing about how he felt.
It was one of the tasks a psychologist assigned to him to help him cope with his feelings. The young man suffered from severe depressions. Its cause was unknown to everybody, nobody knew, not even the young man.
He knew something that was wrong. He missed a friend, one who had killed herself. Through thick and thin they supported each other, helped each other as they suffered from their depression. They were the same. Living a world apart, they had the same problems in their life. Problems nobody but them understood. They barely had any friends, but at least they had each other. Until two years ago, when the young man’s friend committed suicide.
After two years, he still hadn’t dealt with the thought. Countless times since has he thought of ending it himself, always stopped by the thought she would be disappointed. It had kept him alive.
Right now he was getting better. Bad thoughts still entered his head, but the young man knew what to do when they came in. He knew how to be strong enough to deal with the thoughts.
While the young man was sitting on his bed, his girlfriend came into the room. Her face showed that she was happy about something, but he didn’t know what. He knew that he didn’t want to talk right now. He just wanted to sit here, thinking about his friend, the only person that ever understood him.
At some point, the young man snapped. “Will you just shut up!?” He yelled at his girlfriend. She looked slightly surprised at the sudden outburst, which was not uncommon. Then, deciding not to argue, lay down on the bed without saying a word, closing her eyes.
The young man knew he went too far again. As soon as that thought entered his head, his brains started spinning. Thinking. Thinking so fast he couldn’t comprehend all the thoughts that came up. The only thing that stuck was that he screwed up again.
The young man got up, mad at himself and everybody else. He walked to the door of his room, opened it, and slammed his head against the side of the door. It hurt like hell, but he knew his head would calm down. He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Comments are appreciated, but keep in mind that this is very personal, so pharse them appropriately.
