lilcasperr97

[lilcasperr97]

Someone asked me if I miss you.

Of course. Of course I miss you.

I miss you in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening. I miss the you I wanted you to be.

Leaving you was not easy. It wasn’t like choosing between red or white wine.

It was slow. It was agonizing. It was torturous. It ate me alive from the inside out.

I knew I couldn’t leave until I knew you would be okay.

I had to make sure you would be able to make it. That you had people to lean on. A support system.

I knew that my leaving would light you on fire.

I hoped that the fire would burn enough to make you get up and fight for life.

Fight to be the person I always knew you could be.

I knew my leaving would grow you. It would shape you. It would mold you.

But not for me. But for someone else.

My chapter in your story is over.

But you could be better for her.

And I made sure that I loved you in the way I hope you will love someone else someday.

So yes, I do miss you.

A part of me always will.

But perhaps I missed myself more.

~ Why I left

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[lilcasperr97]

Missing someone who is still alive is difficult. It is not like grieving for a deceased relative or spouse. There is no finality; there is no grave to lay flowers upon, no coffin to weep over. No last good-byes. Instead, there is just the sense that a part of you is lost, somewhere out in the world, and you feel its lack constantly.

It’s as though you have lost your shadow, or some other constant companion. And no matter what you do or where you go, it is always there, on the edge of your perception, reminding you of what is gone.

So, when you miss someone, you look for them in the faces of those around you, in the way they move or laugh, and then you feel a little pang in your heart when the image fades and the voice changes. And the face is not the one you want.

When you miss someone who is still alive, you long for the chance to sit down with that person and simply be together, to let their presence fill the emptiness and make you whole again.

It is the worst kind of torture.

[lilcasperr97]

“I wasn’t thinking of killing myself because I thought it was the right thing to do. I was thinking of doing it because nothing felt right anymore.”

— Andrea S.H. (another thing I wrote in my diary)

[lilcasperr97]

don’t beg for anyone’s attention. don’t stay where you’re not wanted.

[lilcasperr97]

[lilcasperr97]

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[lilcasperr97]

I need to snort a fucking line of self confidence