Suicide
There are a lot of things that I could say in this post. I don't know where to start, and I don't want to repeat the story since I've had to say it and witness the reactions of his parents, aunts, brother and friends over and over again.
But basically, there was Tom, I met him through Jon and we became instant friends. Just click and bam. We spent every day together. We finished eachother's sentences. We fixed up eachothers lives a little bit. We loved the same music, thought the same way about things... I convinced him to dump his immature girlfriend who he was having trouble with and we promised ourselves to eachother. He said he'd love me, he'd protect me and make sure nothing got out of hand.
We went on a four day drug binge. First Adderal, then Crystal Meth, DXM until he decided to take Acid on the last day. We didn't sleep or eat. We just talked about everything. He told me that I knew the most about him and I knew that I had told him everything about myself. He was so shy, he didn't even kiss me until one night when I was half alseep in bed next to him. It was so sweet and pure. I never felt anything like it, and never will. He decided on the last day to drop Acid, after four sleepless drug induced nights. Myself and one of his friends who'd decided to take the ride with us told him not to, that he needed sleep... but he did it anyway.
He acted completely gone that night. His eyes were dead, and I had never been so scared in my life. After friends left and I was alone with him I couldn't stop crying. I tried to get through to him but he'd just look at me confused, too high to understand. He would toss and turn in bed next me, talking about how much he wanted to sleep. I gave up on trying to help him and set my alarm for the time he'd be coming down from the high. I passed out within seconds.
I woke up in the morning and he wasn't next to me. I went to the living room and saw him slumped in a chair, he looked so peaceful and at rest. I sat down in the couch next to him and called his name to wake him. He didn't respond. I got up and grabbed his wrists to shake him - cold. Then I noticed the gun in his lap, and the dried blood that had come in rivlets from his ears and down his arms into puddles on the floor. I saw the hole in his skull and the wall and it still took me a good minute or two until I could hear myself sobbing and squealing like some kind of animal.
The cops came and that was that.
I had to explain everything to his friends and family.
There are no words to explain how alone I feel. No matter how many people I have around me, I feel like the real me is locked up in my head in a dark room with those four fateful days replaying with my eyelids pulled open. My heart feels empty. I am afraid of being in the dark. I can't concentrate or want anything. I have this unquenchable thirst, I never feel fully awake.
I seriously don't know where to start rebuilding. Or if I want to, Or if I can.
But basically, there was Tom, I met him through Jon and we became instant friends. Just click and bam. We spent every day together. We finished eachother's sentences. We fixed up eachothers lives a little bit. We loved the same music, thought the same way about things... I convinced him to dump his immature girlfriend who he was having trouble with and we promised ourselves to eachother. He said he'd love me, he'd protect me and make sure nothing got out of hand.
We went on a four day drug binge. First Adderal, then Crystal Meth, DXM until he decided to take Acid on the last day. We didn't sleep or eat. We just talked about everything. He told me that I knew the most about him and I knew that I had told him everything about myself. He was so shy, he didn't even kiss me until one night when I was half alseep in bed next to him. It was so sweet and pure. I never felt anything like it, and never will. He decided on the last day to drop Acid, after four sleepless drug induced nights. Myself and one of his friends who'd decided to take the ride with us told him not to, that he needed sleep... but he did it anyway.
He acted completely gone that night. His eyes were dead, and I had never been so scared in my life. After friends left and I was alone with him I couldn't stop crying. I tried to get through to him but he'd just look at me confused, too high to understand. He would toss and turn in bed next me, talking about how much he wanted to sleep. I gave up on trying to help him and set my alarm for the time he'd be coming down from the high. I passed out within seconds.
I woke up in the morning and he wasn't next to me. I went to the living room and saw him slumped in a chair, he looked so peaceful and at rest. I sat down in the couch next to him and called his name to wake him. He didn't respond. I got up and grabbed his wrists to shake him - cold. Then I noticed the gun in his lap, and the dried blood that had come in rivlets from his ears and down his arms into puddles on the floor. I saw the hole in his skull and the wall and it still took me a good minute or two until I could hear myself sobbing and squealing like some kind of animal.
The cops came and that was that.
I had to explain everything to his friends and family.
There are no words to explain how alone I feel. No matter how many people I have around me, I feel like the real me is locked up in my head in a dark room with those four fateful days replaying with my eyelids pulled open. My heart feels empty. I am afraid of being in the dark. I can't concentrate or want anything. I have this unquenchable thirst, I never feel fully awake.
I seriously don't know where to start rebuilding. Or if I want to, Or if I can.