Remember often the destroyer of pleasures, and cutter of delights.
It's been a good while since I posted. Yes yes, I should have kept up with this journal but honestly, I'm really really bad at these things.
So why write again? Well I just heard some news I needed to write it down somewhere. While it's still fresh. Let me just spit it out
A friend of mine just committed suicide. He hung himself. He watched one of his favourite horror flicks and then he hung himself. In hindsight I can even see those crucial moments where perhaps I could have stopped him. While I do not want to indulge in if's (it is against my religion), I can't help but look back and think of the times when I could have perhaps nudged him in the right direction. I know enough about human nature and I know he trusted me like a brother. Yet despite this I failed him in this and now he is dead. And no knowledge, no insight I possess can reverse that. Death is the end of chances, the demise of choice. He shall be buried in a week or so, his first stage in his journey onto eternity.
I shall think upon his last words to me before I go to bed.
My shit is over.
I am overdue.
See you in another life.
You were good to me.
I'll miss that.
I am bored of things here.
Live your life well my friend.
I corrected his last message of spelling and grammar mistakes. I think it's the least one can do for a friend. Even if he was a drunken sod.
So why write again? Well I just heard some news I needed to write it down somewhere. While it's still fresh. Let me just spit it out
A friend of mine just committed suicide. He hung himself. He watched one of his favourite horror flicks and then he hung himself. In hindsight I can even see those crucial moments where perhaps I could have stopped him. While I do not want to indulge in if's (it is against my religion), I can't help but look back and think of the times when I could have perhaps nudged him in the right direction. I know enough about human nature and I know he trusted me like a brother. Yet despite this I failed him in this and now he is dead. And no knowledge, no insight I possess can reverse that. Death is the end of chances, the demise of choice. He shall be buried in a week or so, his first stage in his journey onto eternity.
I shall think upon his last words to me before I go to bed.
My shit is over.
I am overdue.
See you in another life.
You were good to me.
I'll miss that.
I am bored of things here.
Live your life well my friend.
I corrected his last message of spelling and grammar mistakes. I think it's the least one can do for a friend. Even if he was a drunken sod.