I'm sitting on the floor. I can't do this anymore, I just can't.
Get on with life . Keep breathing.
But how can you when almost everything important that you loved is gone?
You can't.
You can't get on with life. You can't keep breathing.
Not without help, anyway.
The only help I have, it's just enough.
But as I think about how easy it would be not get on with life. To not keep breathing.
Pretty simple. Lots of easy ways to do it.
Pills. Guns. Knives. Rope. Jumping. Drowning. See, lots of ways.
But , inside I'm already gone. Inside, I've already jumped.
As I think about this, his words rush my mind.
Like tidal wave, threatening to push me under, or push me out. Not sure yet.
His words. Those eight words. Keeping me alive.
"There's no such thing as a painless suicide." he said.
He didn't mean my pain. He meant his.
Even though it takes every ounce of strength and optimism to get out of bed in the morning.
Even though most things don't feel worth it. He is worth it.
Worth leading this meaningless life.
He keeps me going. He keeps me breathing. He keeps me alive.
He knows I can get better. He knows I'll be me again, in time.
So, he waits. He waits patiently. He waits almost silently. He waits by my side.
He tells me I'll get better, time, time is what i need.
So, we wait.
We wait together.
We wait together for me to be me again.
And I couldn't love him more for that.
I'm sitting on the floor. I can do this. He knows I can, even if I don't know it myself.