(no subject)
350 days I’ve lived without you, that’s 350 days I’ve thought of reasons to why you could have did this to me, but nothing is valid, nothing comes remarkably close to making sense. But you never thought about that. You couldn’t have considered the end result. You think leaving behind a few pages contained on napkins left in your hands justifies what you have done to me? You think sorry could ever relieve this pain that follows after my name. You have made sorry lose all meaning. People tell me as the years go by you’ll learn to cope; the pain will still be there but you will have found remedies to make it easier to bare. I can’t believe that, because it hasn’t been a year and every day seems to get worse and worse. My calendar is filled with x’s, each day I mark another one off. “Another day down, another day I survived without you here.” You promised forever, forever turned out to be nothing more than five years. I swear when I say that this pain has become my shadow, and I will feel it forever I mean forever. For as long as I can feel, and think. That and my love for you will always live on. You see, my love for you was real. Because after you betrayed me, I cried because I felt alone. After you took the easy way out I promised myself, for your sake, I’d fight for the both of us. You said I was your crutch, but I didn’t realize you were mine. So when I promised to fight for the both us, I didn’t know I’d have to do it on my own. I didn’t know I’d have to start all over again, that I had lost everything I ever had faith in and relied on. As years go by it’ll be harder and harder because I’ll have all the days without you to recap. Except wanting you to come back is a lost cause. That first week of may I’ll no longer wait for your call because we had distanced ourselves from each other. I won’t hear from your father anymore because he can’t stand to know I knew you better than he had. That I meant more then he ever would. I’ll just think about all the times I started to lose my mind; how I was so close from throwing everything I’ve worked for away because I lost sight of why I should keep fighting. I’ll always have this lump that sits in my throat from loving you but trying to hold back the tears because I failed you. Your death will be on my resume of life. Best friend: failed lover: failed. Would it have been enough? Would sharing the same feelings you did have been enough Jacob? You’re going to be the boy I’ll always talk about with the most respect. You’re going to be the boy that inspired me and made me want to keeping living. But I’m the girl who failed. When I look in the mirror I see this clearly visible nametag that states, “Survived a suicide”, if you loved me so much, why’d you make me your victim. You told me things in that letter that are suppose to make me want to live, to embrace life to the fullest. Why didn’t you read emails I sent to you that week telling you all the reasons you should be proud you never gave up? I am so lost I am so lost Jacob. I keep writing letters to you hoping you’ll read them and reply. I wrote you a response to yours, but suicides notes come in packages with no return address. So Jacob, which direction should I stand when I read them to you at night?