deep in the cell of my soul.

Dear you,

I miss you a lot.

I miss you and the way you used to laugh with me and the way you used to trust me and the way you used to hold my hand because like the Beatles' song that's pretty much all that matters. "I want to hold your hand" and that's it, because that's all that love should have to mean.

I miss you and it makes me sad. Honestly really fucking sad.

I cried today in a goddamn IHOP booth while I was trying to be honest about all my bottled up sadness, or at least a part of it, but it's bad for me. I don't do it. I shouldn't do it. It leads me down a path that I'm terrified I won't come back from because it's so dark and deep that no one knows where it bottoms out. I don't even know where it bottoms out. I've been down there multiple times and each time it gets harder and harder to resurface and hold my head up because the sun doesn't shine when I'm at the bottom of my oceans.

I can't even articulate my feelings a lot of the time and sometimes I wonder if I'm just making up all my sadness. If it's all just some make believe thing I came up with to make myself seem more deep or emotional or something. But the thing is, when I honestly try to talk about it, it becomes so real I can't function.

I can't breathe.

And I know I try to pin poetic words on it and I try to play it off a lot of the time but the truth and cold hard reality is, without you I would be dead. And I don't think you realize that because I don't think I've ever told you.

Without you I would be dead.

And I don't just mean dead inside, I mean I would be six feet under. I mean I wouldn't be breathing, I mean I wouldn't have a pulse.

I mean I wouldn't be here right now to miss you so fucking much it makes my heart feel as though it is breaking for the millionth time in my life.

And I know I say suicide is selfish, but I've thought about it more times than anyone has a right to. You have no idea the amount of times I have planned out my death in the perfect way, in the least messy way, in the hardest way, in the easiest way, in the most painful way, in the way that causes the least amount of other causalities, in the way that gets the most attention, in the way that makes me just disappear. I see people's suicide attempts as a challenge, as a way to do it better.

I am sick.

I realize this, I know it. I get that I'm not healthy and that I'm way too fucked up in the brain for me to keep on going like this, but I just keep laughing. I keep fucking laughing like there's nothing wrong, like this isn't a thing I have to deal with every day of my life, like I'm not messed up inside, like I've never hurt myself with the intention of taking it too far.

You helped keep me sane for nearly seven years of our lives and you're still keeping me sane even when I know you're so angry at me and keeping it bottled up inside and I can't let it out because if I apologize I won't be able to stop.

I won't stop until I'm so deep down in myself, so far retreated inside that I'm afraid the only way I'll be able to fix myself is to end it all.

I just miss you and I'm terrified I'll never be able to say it well enough for you to understand that while I can't apologize properly, it's only because I want to be here long enough to see you get married.

Sincerely,
xx
Blue