Even now, I still can’t believe you aren’t here anymore.

The realisation hits me daily, each time a strange tingling sensation somewhere in my body. That’s the drugs; it’s how I feel emotions now. I can tell how strong I’m feeling by how big the sensation is. When I read the order of service for your funeral, it was shoulders to feet, and almost painful.

I console myself with the fact that it is what you wanted; you are happy and peaceful now, and I run over some of the last messages you sent me in my head:

I crave death.
It’s all I want.
If I had a gun, right now I’d be dead.

But the fact that I knew this and still couldn’t save you from your demons is one of the reasons I can’t face life right now.


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