I wish I could die.
But then I realize, days away from the two year mark of your suicide…. that I could never do to someone what you did to me. I will never get your image out of my head. My heartbreak will never heal. The PTSD will follow me forever.
And I hate you for that. You said until death does us part. And you parted.
You said you wanted to grow old with me.
And here I am. Still breathing. Dreading every breath I’ve taken this entire month. Because I’d love to die. And because of you and what you did to me, I’m stuck here.
And I’m not even a depressed person. You just messed me up that much. How can you say you care? And then do what you did.