Inconsistent Rambling

I’m not sure what to make of this feeling. It’s taken a hold over me and I can’t stop it. This weight that I feel, it drags me down. Into emptiness, into blackness. I feel no pain. I take no breaths. I bleed no blood. I’m not alive. I feel nothing. All of this is true, so why does it hurt so bad? I’m the exception to every rule. My life is slow and disappointing. They say nothing gold can stay. I’m not sure I was ever gold, but I was certainly better than this. I go back to house where it all started, just to feel the loss. To feel something real. You’re the only thing that makes life real, and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. The longer I stay here like this, the more I understand why you did it. Why you left. I wish you didn’t. I wish you were here.

They say time heals all wounds, but I know that no amount of time can ever heal this one. A part of my died with you. A big part. I’m not the same as I was, and I never will be again. Most people my age can be viewed as young and naive, that their problems will seem insignificant when they’re older and have more perspective. But not mine. No, I can say to people twice my age that they’ll never know a pain as deep as mine, and I’ll be completely right in doing so. I pity others who don’t know, and I’m jealous of them at the same time.

I spend so much time waiting for time to pass. And I never really know what it is that I’m waiting for. I just wake up and have nothing to do. No one to see. Nowhere to go. I’m lost, completely lost. The only thing that makes any sense, as stupid as it sounds, is math. I wouldn’t say I enjoy doing math, but I’m good at it, and I understand it completely. You can learn it. You can complete it. You can’t do that with life. That’s why math is great. I wonder if you ever felt the same way. I bet you did.

I think that we’re a lot more similar than I ever realized before. At least I’m similar to the way you were now. Maybe I wasn’t before when you were actually here. When you were actually alive. I wonder how long you weren’t alive before you died. I know you said you’d been thinking about it for five months, but I don’t know if that’s when it started at all, or if that’s when the thoughts got serious. I’d give anything to know your last thoughts. To read your letter. I just want to know everything about it. About you.

I’ve wondered many times what the last song you listened to was. I wonder if you were listening to music when it happened. I wonder where you did it now. I’ve always assumed out back by your mini trampoline, but just now I realize it probably wasn’t, it was probably inside. Maybe you were listening to your ipod. That was so special, to have that afterwards. I think the last song played was planet caravan, but that could have been from us going through it, I’m just not sure.

I wish I had more than I do. I wish I had a place to go to remember you. The table. That would be nice. I should go there some day. To pay my respects. That place means more than the forest, because that’s where we were together. But I still like the forest. I just hate how your name is just another name though, because it’s not. It’s the only one that matters. To me, anyways. At least it’s not lost in the middle, I’m pretty sure it’s right near the bottom, three rows over. I should go there again, it’s been a couple months. It’s just hard for me. I hope you understand.

I’ve become very on edge. Very aware, I think. I don’t know if anyone knows just how much this has affected me. I don’t think it’s possible to, only someone who has been affected the same way could ever know. And I’m not sure how many people there are like that. At least of the ones I’d ever let on to. Obviously your parents could, but I’m certainly not going to make it any harder for them, and if I was it wouldn’t be to have them understand me, it would be to get my hands on that letter. Probably only one other person has been affected this much, maybe two or three though. I just feel like my outside situations were pretty much as poor as possible to deal with it. I should have gone to the ones that knew. I should have taken the time to deal right away. But I was just in shock for so long. I think I still am a bit. It’s insane how impossible it is for this to sink in. I can’t get better when it still hasn’t hit me.

Where would I be if you were still here? What would I be doing, and how would things be different? I was actually kind of excited to get closer to you. You would have been like my best friend out there. I was looking forward to it, because you were interesting. You were funny. You could be annoying and an asshole, sure. But so am I. You were funny. You made me laugh. You made me smile. You were beautiful, and I loved you. I still do. I always will. I just wish you knew. And it’s completely my fault that you didn’t. I know that, and I’m sorry.

I never knew how much you meant to me. It’s so cliche but so fucking true that you never know what you’ve got until it’s gone. I really want to learn from my mistake with you. It does nothing to fix it, but I feel like it’s the least I could do to not be a completely terrible person. Although I did fuck that up again since you’ve died, so maybe I am just that terrible/useless. But I’m trying. Trying for you. Everything I do is because of you. Good and bad. I know that’s a lot of bad on you, but you’re dead now and it’s true. I wouldn’t be like this if you were still here. That was the catalyst, the ignition of this downhill slide in my life. It feels like the hill is getting steeper and steeper too. With each day that passes, everything slips further away. And I’m losing my focus too, because I don’t know what I’m focused on. What my current situation is leading me to. I’m too ambivalent to figure anything out. My desires and feelings change on a daily basis, and I think it makes people hate me.

I think the only people that like being around me now are the ones that don’t know me. I’m not sure if I’m okay with that. I mean on the one hand, it sucks a ton because people that know how I feel get dragged down by me and don’t want to be around me. But on the other hand, maybe these other people are an opportunity for me. Maybe through them I can move forward a bit? Who knows. But it’s nice sometimes. Especially this one girl. I guess I don’t really know her that well, but I think I quite like her. She’s good at making me smile and feel good about myself. Of course it would be her though, because I’m pretty sure she’s dating my friend. Ha. Just my luck of course. Although I do believe that we make our own luck to some extent, so I shouldn’t be so surprised, as I haven’t exactly done anything to deserve good luck recently.

I’m sorry for writing so much, and I should hope no one actually took the time to read all of this, because it’s not really something I’m looking for help or advice with. I guess it helps to write it and put it out there instead of just writing it and hiding it away.