P R O M I S E S
D A Y 6
I miss you. I really do. You were the only one that helped me...even though you didn't think you did...
God, I really do miss you. I wonder where you are right now. I wonder if you're looking at the same sky as me, dotted with tiny artificial lights because we're in the suburbs and it's hard to see anything else besides satilites. I wonder if you're hearing the same raindrops as me, hitting your window pane hard, reminding you of the chaos that lies outside your bedroom. I wonder if you're thinking of me, at all, wondering what's going to happen to me. Wondering if you're going to see me again. You know, you sounded so sure over the phone six days ago.
"I'm going to see you again, and you're going to see me. You are."
You made sure I wasn't being ambigious, made sure I was being certain that I would survive. That was kind of your way of making me promise, I guess. That was your way of trying to be there for me. The thought of you...did you know that's what's helping me stay alive?
I remember the night you stayed up with me till three in the morning because you were so worried about me. I tried to shoo you away, tried to make it seem like there was nothing you could do. That must have hurt you so much.
"You know something? I would give my LIFE for you."
You put up with me till three in the morning...and I'm only now realizing how important I was to you.
I told you to go to bed...I was worried because of how tired you were getting, and you told me that you would call someone if I didn't make a promise to you. I thought I might be able to escape because of how sleepy you were, so I thought maybe if you fell asleep on me I could go into the closet, and slide my head into the pretty little noose that you didn't know I had made, and maybe I could get away with murdering myself. But you let me know that if you did fall asleep, the number would be called immediately. So you made me promise instead, because you knew I'd never break a promise to you.
"Promise me you won't kill yourself tonight...no, promise me you won't kill yourself. Ever."
I still haven't forgotten that promise, you know. I know you haven't either.
And when you left, I thought maybe that promise was void. Maybe I could just get it over with...because you told me I was nothing to you. So then, the promise was worthless, wasn't it? I made that promise to protect you, not myself. I didn't want to hurt you. If I knew you wouldn't be hurt if I killed myself, nothing would have stopped me from taking all the pills I could find in my medicine cabinet. Then I called you on the sixth of June, and I asked and asked... Do you care?
"Yes. I care."
"How do you feel, A?"
"Pensivity."
You made me Google it. It said, 'a thoughtful sadness" Who would have thought you'd ever be sad or thoughtful over me? I was wrong about you. I didn't realize I was important, and now it's too late.
"For now...for lack of a better metaphor...you're on the backburner."
YOU ARE READING
73 Days
Non-FictionA series of letters to a once best friend, a series of letters he may never get to read. There are 73 days in summer, and that means 73 days of change. From a suicidal, depressed, self-harm addicted teenager into a (hopefully) stable young woman, th...
