I don’t have anyone especially close to me that I can tell my feelings to. And I know nobody reads this blog– at least, nobody I know reads this blog. Maybe one day, if I find someone I trust and love, I can tell them of this blog so they know what I was / am feeling.
Ever since the loss of my best friend, I’ve had this deep-seated sorrow in my heart. It’s strong enough to sometimes wish that I could follow her out of this cruel and twisted world, but not strong enough to make me cry or even hate the man who murdered her. Almost everything I hear or see reminds me of her and causes a brief pain inside my chest before I quickly and unconsciously push it out. Like a mix of grief, anger, sorrow. And then I feel like I really want someone to hold me. Or for me to hold them. Maybe it’ll help get rid of this pain. But then I realize I have nobody I can tell my pains to, much less to hold. The pain gets deeper and deeper until I have to make myself let it out in the form of weeping at night. Then the loop repeats.
As you might guess, as a guy, I’ve never been a fan or wanted to watch Twilight. But this girl really liked Twilight and made me sit down and watch the whole first movie with her. So this morning, I was listening to some old songs on my mp3 player and heard Decode by Paramore. I had to quickly change songs because it made me think of how she’s gone. It’s always things like that that remind me of her. Or just a song that mentions death reminds me of her.
She and I had met on Myspace (back in the good ol’ days) in a high school forum. She lived in Arkansas and was planning to move over here and attend my school, so she went to the forum to make some friends in advance. I messaged her and we became very close. She didn’t end up coming over here, but we stayed close for a year or two and then we developed a long-distance relationship. We would both casually talk about what we’d be doing while we’re married. It was understood, I guess. She was my fiancee, if you want to look at it that way. I loved her so much, as both a romantic partner and a best friend.
She had issues. Parent issues. She would go from guy to guy, satisfying her instinctual desires with them and then move on after they would do something horrible to her. She was a lost sheep looking for someone to love her. She ended up finding me, someone who– if I can say this without sounding like I’m bragging– was not like any other guy. I was positive. I didn’t want her for anything sexual. I wanted her for herself. So we dated for a while, before she broke it off because she still had sexual desires, and I couldn’t (and wouldn’t) give that to her. So being with several guys after that who ended up doing drugs or cheating on her, she moved to where I was. We hung out and ended up making out and falling in love again. But I was immature, or maybe I was just not ready for a full-blown relationship while I was still in college. I pushed her away (figuratively), and in retrospect, I wish I hadn’t. I wish she had stayed in here after that and done something with her life, gone to college or gotten a good job. And after we were both mature enough, I would have gotten back together with her. Because I loved her. But she didn’t do that. She moved back to Arkansas when she found that trying to be with me was futile. She messaged me, essentially saying goodbye, that the four years we’d known each other helped her through terrible times in her life. That she was able to live because she had me. Then we stopped talking as much.
She got pregnant, got married to the father (who physically abused her if I’m not mistaken), and gave birth. Then she divorced him. While taking care of her child, she went around and met stupid guys. She got pregnant with one of them. She became engaged to another one. That last one she became engaged to was the one who ended up murdering her and her unborn child in a drunken rage. Police found bruises all over her and multiple stab wounds. Her throat was so cut open that they could see inside. Her toddler was found with wounds that looked like attempted strangulation.
I didn’t have any recent texts from her. I don’t have her voice saved anywhere. I don’t have anything of her. Her toddler went back to the blood father (the bad one) and the murderer went to prison. Nothing left of the story except the pain and sorrow. The grief and the tears. The desire that I had talked with her more. The desire that I had stayed with her. If I had stayed with her, she would not have died. It’s the truth. I would have protected her and taken care of her to the best of my ability. A lot of people talk about how they regret doing something in their lives more than not doing something. I’m the opposite. I wish I had done a lot of things.
And this story of her loss isn’t the only thing hurting me. It’s the realization that I have nobody else. I don’t have anyone else I want to be with. After her loss, what’s the point of staying on this earth? This earth that contains so much evil, so much twisted darkness? I find myself thinking that a lot. That it’d be so much less painful if I wasn’t alive. I could see her again if I did. I asked a friend who has felt these same feelings of loss before. The pain doesn’t go away, she says. If I’m going to allegedly live for 60 more years with this pain, that seems way too unbearable.
Anyway, I’m not suicidal. I’m just sad. And I’m supposed to be in one of my classes right now. Just living out my life as if nothing tragic had ever happened. So that’s the end of this.