I awake. The red LEDs of my alarm clock next to me glow dimly in the dark. 2:30. I had gotten not but an hour of sleep, but still I know I will not be able to return to it.
Ah, sleep, the mindless slumber that has eluded me for years. Ever since *you* left.
I turn the dial on the knob next to my bed. The lamp glows, illuminating the room. I get out of my bed and walk to my front room.
I consider putting on music, but decide that the rain outside is enough. Rain is my favorite weather. It rained when we lived in Seattle, do you remember that?
On my table lies a folded note I once had written long ago to you. The paper, now soft from age and wear, seems out-of-place in this kind of world.
I open it and read it for what seems like the thousandth time in the last few days. I walk outside. The rain softly lands on my clothes.
I'm reminded of the old poem I wrote back in high school, sitting in my English class.
Swish, sway, flux and flow
Why this happened I don't know
The man is dead this much is true
His body hangs, his life is through
A cotton rope would form a noose
Not too tight, not too loose
His life had flashed before his eyes
Ending in a suicide
Pitter-patter, says the rain
Everybody feels the blame
For a while, the grief is shared
But in the end nobody cared
I remembered about how I used to be angry all the time. Angry at my family for some dumb reason. Angry at the world for being the harsh reality that it is.
Angry at myself for not quite fitting into the world, the way everyone else does, even the odd little boys and girls who spend their nights alone.
As I walk down my street, a stoplight flickers on. I think I see your before realizing that it was just a fence post. I thought I saw you, but perhaps it was just wishful thinking.
What would I do if we met again? If I could see you once more? *I* certainly don't know.
I wouldn't like you to see the way I live my life nowadays, half-drunk and wearing last year's clothes, thinking last year's thoughts.
I think about what I used to live for. I realize that my biggest reason to live was for people who needed me, people who were like you. I guess I let you down then. That's why you left.
It turns out that no matter how much I wish I could, I couldn't take responsibility for your happiness.
I think if I could do it over, I would have gone with you. Or maybe a few days later. There's no point now. No point to anything.
We had grown around each other, and when you had left, I collapsed.