It’s been roughly four or five months since things got flipped completely upside down. It’s been about a month since I’ve posted anything on here. I find things to be sickeningly strange. You’d think that I’d be over the hill, already. You’d think that I would be back to my normal self. But, I’m not. No, instead I’m just as low as I’ve ever been. My health is still terrible. My mental state is just as bad. Half the time I am being hospitalized for seizures, and the other half of the time, I am just losing it. I find myself constantly thinking about what had happened, and why I can’t fix it— or myself. When I am alone, I’m always thinking about “her”, and why I couldn’t make things ok. I have been trying to do things to keep myself busy, but the fucking best part of it all, is I STILL have her on my mind. It’s hard to deal with all of this. I listen to songs that I hate, because they remind me of her. Then for some stupid ass reason, I think it’s a great idea to learn how to play those said songs on the guitar. When did I let myself get this way? I should have just fucking left everything in the dark. But I can’t do that, it’s impossible. As I am getting ready to move out of this town I’ve been living in, I find myself finding things that have to do with her. My green guitar pick, stupid shit I’ve written, things from the first 12 months together, letters from the 24th month together, pictures, screenshots, messages, plans, hopes, dreams, promises. I find all this stupid shit. Instead of throwing these things out or away, I pack them and keep them. She’s happy now, without me. Why am I letting myself suffer? I can’t get out of this mess. She’s not here anymore, and that haunts me. I was just another page in the book, I wasn’t the book itself. I would still do anything to make things ok. I really truly would. But that’s where I’m wrong. Things are ok— for her. Not for me. But her happiness always meant the most to me. Even if it meant absolutely destroying everything I was. I think I’ve run out of tears, and I manage to prove myself otherwise. I guess this is karma for all the shitty things I’ve done, myself. I have to get pass this. If I don’t, I’m done for. There’s six days left until my 18th birthday. Come August 1st, I will officially be a year on borrowed time. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.
I love you.
And I always, always will.