Experiences: I Wish You Were Here

I wish you were here

It’s now, in the dead of night, when I can’t stop crying that I wish you were here. I wish I could pick up the phone, dial your number and hear your voice once again. Instead, things as they are, I’m typing my thoughts out on the keyboard because I can’t stay in bed with all this in my head. I doubt that any of this will make sense. I just feel the need to do something with this grief, and all these tears aren’t making it any better.

I wish you were here. No, more than that – I need you to be here. Right here, right now. So why aren’t you?

Suicide. It hurts so much. More I ever realised when the shoe was on the other foot and I was the one with the tablets and a can of pop. As I took each one in turn, feeling a detached sort of calm, all I knew was that I was ending it. That there was going to be no more pain, hurt and confusion. That it was going to be ok. Ofcourse I’m still here, so something pulled me out of it – a chance thought of my mum, my family and friends or a spark of uncertainty even. Whatever the reason I was still tethered to this life, and so here I remain. So, why not you? Why didn’t you think of me? Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you stay?

I wish you were here. I understand that life just got too much for you, but understanding it and accepting it are a hundred miles apart. I have so many questions and you’re not here to answer any of them. You didn’t even leave a note for me. WHY?

Most of the time I can get by, turn my mind to other things and make a decent enough pretence at carrying on. Sometimes I even fool myself, impressive isn’t it? I suppose it is, until some random thought brings it all crashing down around my ears. A song lyric, not even one you knew, unexpectedly brings me to tears – the dam breaks and I’m here again (and you’re not). Nothing is safe anymore, I can’t predict what’ll make me smile and what’ll wake the depth of raw emotion that I’m trying to keep in check. Nothing is safe, even good thoughts can act as reminders of the bad. The intensity of the pain even outweighs the comfort of the good, so it becomes easier not to feel anything at all.

At the moment I’d give anything to be numb.

If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to be sick. God I hate this. I hate the panic, the anger, the pain, the loss, the emptiness and the knowledge that there’s nothing I can do to bring you back. My mind is emotion central, and there’s way too many trains of thought. It’s all too much, and I can’t cope with it.

Like I said – I wish you were here