This is something I wrote very early on. Throw back Thursday.
Well, guilt hit today from an unexpected quadrant.
I was prepared for the “I should have noticed and been there to stop it.” That one I feel like I’ve got a decent handle on.
The one that popped up today, though. Ouch.
I thought about how much he was hurting. How much he must have felt like no one cared. And then it hit me full on in the face. I may have contributed to that by not being as present as I wanted/could have.
I hurt him. Maybe. I contributed to that pain. Perhaps.
I couldn’t have loved him more. I couldn’t have stopped him. But I may have added to it. And that sucks.
And now my person is gone. I keep calling him my best friend, but the truth is, he was SO MUCH more than that. We talked nearly every day. We relied on each other. We had sex. Not often, but often enough.
I don’t trust anyone else near as much. Haven’t for years.
And now he’s gone. Truth be told, I was missing him before he was dead, because we didn’t talk much on Monday. I thought about texting him that night, but didn’t because I’d told him I was busy, and, though my plans got canceled, I was fighting off being sick. So I went to bed instead. I wish I hadn’t.
Nothing to do about it. He probably wouldn’t have responded, and I wouldn’t have known any earlier. But I wish I’d reached out.
I loved him so hard. I wish that could have an effect on depression. But it can’t. Therapy can. Drugs can. Love can’t.
I’m broken. Looking into therapists. I’m wounded with a severity that feels like it’s unfixable.
I just hurt. And there’s nothing any of you can do about it. So don’t feel guilty if you don’t have anything to say. Just send hugs.
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