When someone tells me their pain, I feel it too. It kills me to see someone I love enduring all this agony when I’d take it all from them in a heartbeat, but we’re not allowed to do that when it’s themselves inflicting it. They see themselves as unworthy to be loved and can’t believe that anyone would ever be able to love them when I’m standing right here. I would not be there had I not loved you enough to keep you from hurting yourself, but you can’t see that, can you? You tell me about your pain and you don’t ask about mine when most of it is because of you. I love you, yet you don’t love yourself. Instead you take the blade into the bathroom with you and allow it to kiss your arm when I’m outside willing to hold you until the night is over and the sun comes up again. I am terrified to fall asleep because I’m scared you’re going to break if I don’t answer one of your texts in the middle of the night. I’m always in a constant state of fear that one day I’m going to get a call from your parents telling me that you did it, and you’re gone. If you do that your torment will be gone, you’ll be a memory to those of us you left behind. What about me?
What would I do? I’d go spiraling down without you. I’d never be able to forgive myself because I’d feel like I killed you, I knew and I didn’t tell anybody so I pretty much pulled the trigger, gave you the pills, or pushed you off the building. At your funeral I don’t know whether I’d be crying my eyes dry or if I’d be too miserable to do anything except stare at the casket and think about how much it hurts. I would still be breathing but on the inside I’ve died along with you. Remember thinking how no one would end up at your funeral? The whole town is here to grief the loss of such a young and wondrous teen with so much life ahead yet they took it away from themselves. The ones that tortured you? I want to kill them, and they want to as well knowing that they were the ones who caused this. Your parents? Hysterically sobbing in the front row, devastated that their child has left them and they never knew anything was wrong because you never told them, you put on a fake smile as soon as you emerged from your room and we all know that you are very convincing. Your teachers? Dumbfounded, you went through the day with such an act it was hard for anyone to question whether it was real or not. What about the rest of the family? Sitting in front with your parents with tears in their eyes, Grandma and Grandpa crying about their grandbaby taking herself away from them. Don’t think that no one cares, because you’ll see how many people do care and you could have turned to any one of them for help but you decided to take it all yourself. I could have done something, but I didn’t and I blame myself for your death. I love you, we all do, and it kills us thinking that you don’t know that.