The love of my life wasn’t a romantic one. We shared an intimacy that – were I a writer – would be immortalized in literature. It’s akin to David and Jonathan – an epic friendship. It was one of laughter, humility, gentleness, and kindness. When he hugged me I knew he never wanted to let go, he always wanted me to be a part of his life. We could say anything to each other, knowing our friendship was strong enough to be shaken and still survive. We shared star gazing, hikes, dancing, road trips, cigarettes, moving houses, hospital visits, and train rides. We shared tears, screams, exhaustion, laughter, whispers, mumbles, kisses, and love. I wanted to see him grow old. I wanted to sit on porches and embellish the past together. I want to tell him about another day of work. I want to hear about how he bought some random gizmo for one of his random projects that bring him joy. I want to walk to the grand canyon with him, and go backpacking, and visit Mongolia. I want his happiness to be complete.
I am doing a selfish thing. I don’t want a job. I don’t want to return to school. I do not want to fail again. I have wanted to kill myself for a long time. I have threatened to do so constantly. Despite the emotional roller coaster I have caused him he has continued to grab me, shake me, hug me, scream at me, talk to me – all in order to say he loves me and wants my friendship.
He (will) understand(s) though. It’s something I have to do. My only regret is that I didn’t do it before having met him, so that I wouldn’t put him through it. My one solace is that the emotional roller coaster will finally stop. His life will be better in a few years. He will become numb to the memory, he does not need me, the world will not stop.
I know it doesn’t help, but I really am sorry.
(Tickle City, Testicular Cancer, To Be Continued, Toasted Croissant, Tough Cookie)
5 comments
If you truly love him, do not do this. Do not let go. Fight for love.
he Sounds like a dick
Eventually I’ll be left alone. Right now I’m doing well. Soon the depression will return (it comes back every year) and I will not be able to feel love. It is not fair to him for me to only live because of him. I cannot limit his life in that way – burden him in that way. If I live I have to do it for myself, and I don’t want to live for me. I hate me. All I want from life is death.
Do you just enjoy melancholy, or do you *actually* have any problems?
No. I don’t have any “actual” problems. I’m not sure why you put actual in quotations. I imagine that is your way of saying real or serious. Nobodt has any serious or unique problems. A parent, sibling, or child dies; mental disorder; beaten or raped: enslaved in an apple factory in China; etc.. I’ve had my fair share of hardship. That’s part of the human condition. We have a choice though. We can always die. I just don’t want to live anymore. I do not believe life is sacred. Humans are causing a mass extinction while hurting each other deeply. I’m done with it all. I think we should all die. It’s paradoxically meaningless and harmful – the human experience. Anyway, I’m waiting on a package. Then I will mix what I ordered to make hydrochloric sulfide and fall asleep forever. (Ps. I think a previous reader was being sarcastic, but my best friend can be a dick, but he’s definitely not a dick.)