(no subject)

[ashtraygirlx]

It's interesting to look back a year, two years, three and see what I wrote. Two years ago today, I wrote about you. I wrote about how I felt, about how I missed you, about how I was scared I was starting to forget. I was sad. In fact, I was more than sad. Reading it now, I almost don't believe that I wrote it. No, not because it isn't familiar. Not because I never went through it or anything like that. I did go through it. I remember. It's just... two years later, it's so much more abstracted.

I miss you.
I still love you.
But I'm not beside myself anymore. I'm not in a ball on the floor, sobbing so hard that I can't breath. I'm not nauseous with sorrow. I'm not insane over why, how, what did I do.
It happened. It IS.
It's in the past.
It's sad.
You died.
You left me.
But I abandoned you.
I'm not blaming myself. Not anymore. I didn't make you do it.
I just didn't help.
You decided life wasn't worth living.
So it goes.

Now, I just have to live it for you.

I will never make the same mistake you did.