Maybe it wasn't a death as in mortality... not abiotic... just.. empty. Like dead in the soul.... cold. I feel like it's my fault, but I really know I can't blame myself. It wasn't my fault, only his fault. Yet in the back of my mind I wonder if maybe, just maybe, we'd never met, we'd both be better off. I pine for the chance to rewind time and take this all away, but it's too late.. he's fading away.. too quickly for anyone to save him, from himself.
They say it's not addictive. They say you'll only do it once. But I want it more and more. I crave this. I crave this. I want to be dizzy, carefree, and lightweight forever. I feel free, liberated from this world. I don't care what people think, or what they say, or what even I think or say or do. And it feels beautiful... but I know it'll kill me.
I love him. He doesn't love me. He wants thin, I'm too thick. He wants brunette, I'm blond. He wants gorgeous, I'm just average. He wants West Coast, I'm East Coast. He wants quiet, I'm too loud. He wants clean, I'm fucked up. But we go together, almost in perfect harmony. We have our friendship to prove it. Stop pushing me away, and telling me to clean up. It's not helping, and I need you around.
Where were you? Where? You disappear for months, without a trace.. gone. And out of nowhere, there you are. An I.M. message, your name's on it. And we talk, for no more than maybe 4 minutes. And you're gone. Leaving me with a message to pass, because your father cut you off from us, and that you can't tell the boy you love not to forget you, and to never do what you had done. I ask everyone else if you talked to them. But none of them hear from you. Only me. And I don't know what to think.
Fuck me. Just do it. I want it, you want it, we both want it. Make your move, I'll be waiting.
All of these little experiences, were my April 21st, 2011. I'm fallen, it's over.