degrading

The day you killed yourself. Well. It was a cold day. Morning has come, the dark sky started lightening, but you weren't there anymore to see this sunrise. I don't blame you. It wasn't a nice sunrise this one. It was cold, and dark. And my fingers froze off. also, it was now morning. And I don't like mornings. I like the middle of the night, like you. But I don't know if it makes it worse now, is morning just worse, because now you are not here? It is quiet. This morning is quiet. I could hear some sniffles from your mom. I'm not sure if she cares, I am not going to lie. I have seen her tear you down enough times for me to wonder if she would ever care. But she's crying now, so maybe you did mean something to her. When I found you, or at least, when I found the part of you that you shed once that bullet entered your skull, well, I wasn't even surprised. It hurt, knowing you wouldn't be here anymore. I hope you can find peace, if there's an afterlife. It would really suck if you were now incarnated into a cow somewhere in England. You know, I like you. You are my friend, and I feel you in my dark void heart. I forgive you for doing it. I can't blame you; I can't be angry. I know you were carrying worse things than anyone in this world can imagine. I know it was hard, and I know this was your way out. A part of me wants to follow, and I might. The world is void this morning. You were the reason I stayed; you were the reason. All I wanted was to bring you as much comfort as might it be possible. Whatever you choose, I will be there for you.
Blood is messy. I would need to find something easy, but there isn't. so, I might just go for the gun at this point. Do I continue? Do I stay? I feel like maybe I should just do nothing. I want to do nothing. I want to just stop being. I would like to lie down in the dark, and for the world to be quiet and for life to stop moving on. Problem is morning always comes. The sun always rises, and I need to go places again. I wish I could just take a break. I am going insane. I keep messing up, I keep breaking. I can't stop the spiral. The gutters are the highest floor on a skyscraper right now. Death seems stupid by now. And I keep trying to think? What? What can I do? What is anything that I want? I don't want to die. No thank you. I don't want to go to school. I don't want to talk to people. I don't' want to move. I don't want to sleep. I don't even want to eat at this point. My brain is me unfortunately. Nothing to do about that. I am me forever and ever. Now I would like to escape myself and break free. I keep myself locked up. So, I am broken. A broken human being. I don't think I was born with the correct programming. I am ps1 Hagrid at this point. I am the prototype of neanderthals, except without the physical advantages. I don't get it. I walk the earth, and everyone is dead. Everyone is walking corpses. No one lives. No one lives. Such a waste. The amazing feelings going to waste. You can dance and sing in the street; you can scream your heart out. You can drive so damn quick; you can make a place to share and connect with other people with your crazy thoughts. You can do cocaine. You can take a sledgehammer and break something. I don't know what I'm talking about, but I want to be free. Why can't I be free? Well because I'm scared of the closest people to me. Catch me floating circles in my fish bowel someone said somewhere. Slow down on Monday. Okay, okay, I'm cooked. I am having problems. I am having very big problems. Could someone just hug me? And tell me I'm alright? Can someone tell me that I'm doing okay? Well no. I guess not. I want to go and tell some psychologist that knows what they're doing, and dump my stuff on them so that maybe they can point me towards something? No, forget it, not even that. Can they just tell me that I'm fine? That I can chill? Because I don't know how much longer I can sit here and do this. Day after day. No, I don't like it here. No, I don't know what's wrong with me. My life is perfect, right? Wasn't it? It seemed good. It looks great. But I am alone. I am alone. I am completely and utterly alone. There is no one to see me. And it just makes me think, that they won't even see when 'm gone. Because they don't know me. No one knows me. So, what if I die? They won't notice my absence. They'll think someone else died. "oh, how didn't we see this coming? How could I have known she was fighting such demons?" you didn't look. You never looked my way. You didn't see me. You never tried to. You would think you found someone else's body. Some sweet girl, filled with love and kindness, modest and good hearted. Loved by everyone, funny as hell. Entertain my faith. Even in my death, you won't see me. You would look down at my dead body and you will still not look to see me. Just some illusion you made in your head to make me a person however your mind decided to build it, because you couldn't take a moment to look, and actually see me.