Suicide Admissions

I remember that day. The confusion, the chaos. In many ways, I still feel like I never knew you. I was off in my own life. Disconnected. Away. Happy. I, like everyone else, didn't understand. We didn't know why. Couldn't fathom the pain, the disappointment. You sure made a statement though. They should have believed you, I guess. Should've listened to all the admissions you weren't making.

It was always such a ridiculous notion to me. One I'm sorry to say I've better understood at points in my life since. I looked down on you for it. I did. I thought you were selfish, weak. I hated you for hurting the ones I love. How dare you. You made them cry. I watched them break down because of you. Had to see the pain of all the moments with you they would never experience reflecting in their eyes. Weddings, babies, birthdays you stole from them.

I've always carried around this morbid curiosity about it all. Running it over time and again in my mind. I took what I knew and added what I didn't and watched it like a movie in my head until it held no emotion whatsoever. There were things I did know, things I did see. I know where it happened. I know where you sat, how you did it. I'd been there a thousand times before and plenty of times since. But you destroyed the innocence of the place. You took everything about it and covered it with a dark blanket that blackens the space forever in my eyes.

I wonder, did you do that on purpose? Was it intentional? A part of the plan? Another little knife in the chest to those you wanted to feel the pain? Like a footprint in cement or initials carved in a tree to be a constant reminder that you were there?

I've seen it all in my head. Watched you do the deed. I've seen the trigger pulled, the blood stain, the gun fall heavy under its own weight. I saw childhood memories and future plans wiped away by white gloved hands. I saw your loved ones cry, watched them become defeated shells of their former selves. I watched you take their lives right along with your own.

I could never understand and I suppose I never will. But I will never forget the images you left burned in my brain. I'll remember you before, the sight of your face, the sound of your voice. I'll remember the news of what you had done. I'll remember the weather and the sounds of sickening confusion. I'll remember your funeral and the way the pain of those I loved made me cry. I'll remember not crying for you. I'm sorry for that. Sorry I hold a grudge I can't give up. Sorry I let the hatred for what you did cloud the life you had. I'm sorry that you'll never have the chance to say the same to me.

I'm sorry I can't let go of it all.

If you or someone you know has thought about or talked about committing suicide, please talk to someone about it. It's never to late to ask for help. Find someone to talk to. Life is worth living!