"Adam!" I called out into the empty flat that I now live in, away from you, lonely. I told you that Adam and I were going on a long travelling trip to 'reconnect with ourselves' and I'm so sorry I'm lying.
"What." He sighed, coming in to the bedroom and looking fed up "What do you want."
"Help me up." I said quietly. Since I moved out of our home I have deteriorated so quickly, i can barely do anything anymore and it's so frustrating.
"No." Adam shook his head "Your legs still work don't they?"
"...not really..." I sighed, looking down at my hands and playing with my wedding ring, thinking of you and only you, how much I miss you, how much I love you, how lost I am without you "You know this...I miss con." I began to sob randomly "Adam, I want to die, so so so badly...I can't do this."
"James...no." My best friend comforted me "I can't let you die, not yet."
"Why." I cried "I can't see my husband, i can't walk, I can barely stand, the only thing I have left is my mind, and that's fucking going now. I'm a shell, and you agreed that you'd help me when I deem life too difficult, well this is too fucking much and I want to go."
He didn't reply and just looked me in the eye, studying my expression, I tried to convey ultimate truth to convince him it was time. And I'm so sorry, but I'm so fucked and I can't do this anymore, you'll understand, I hope you understand.
"...Call Connor." He frowned, "and then talk to me about dying."
"Adam, don't be a cunt." I snapped "Help me up like I asked ten minutes ago." I said, tears still streaming down my cheeks "I need the bathroom."
"...okay." Adam nodded.
He helped me up and walked me to the bathroom. I told him I wanted a bath and he agreed to help. I don't know what I'd do without him. I'd be even more useless than I already am.
Truth is, I'm going to die, but I don't want to die the way the disease wants me to, I want to die with beauty and grace. Which is why I've planned it. It's happening, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Con, I love you, I love you so so so much.
Forgive me.
It's currently 4am and I haven't slept in two days and fatigue is taking over my body, but I don't care, I'll lay awake and talk to you, been if I'm not actually talking to you, I'm reminiscing in the mental thoughts of your body and your touch and your calm and comforting voice that washes over me like the tide, softly touching my skin and reminding me I'll be okay, even if it's not in the conventional way.
Tomorrow you'll get a call, they'll say they found me in an apartment, alone, petals floating around me, my body limp and cold, this journal and a letter on the floor beside me, one white rose on my chest. They'll tell you that your husband has passed away and that it was a suicide. They'll tell you that I'm gone, and hopefully they'll let you down gently.
I hope they let you down gently.
I'm so fucking sorry.
I loved every moment of you, I loved the awkward first kisses, I loved the cold kisses laced with fresh annoyance, I loved the comfortable kisses. I've loved you.
Your life will be glorious, and I'm so glad I was a part of this glorious life. Please care for your mother and brother. Your father is expecting me to come home dressed in black with silk surrounding me. My will is hidden in my bedside table drawer. I've left you everything. Including my heart.
I'm sorry. I love you so so so dearly.
I'm watching the sunrise and it's making me think of you, I close my eyes and whisper you goodbye. I'm broken and I'm beaten down, I'm barely human. It's okay baby. I'll be better off away, at least I'm not causing you pain.
Except I will be.
I'm sorry.
All of my love, ever, forever, ever after, carrying on after 4am.
James xxx