Before I can start with all the reasons to live; I have to go back to back to wanting to die. I am not talking about myself in this moment but about my best friend.
From the first day I met you, you were a pessimist. Regardless, you carried me through the depression of a terrible breakup, supported me in getting back with the aforementioned guy and supported me in leaving this 'American Dream' and you for Australia. No matter how down you were or how hard life would set you back, you were my life preserver and my head never stayed beneath the current. It wasn't until I came home from Australia that I had grown enough to know how to address your pain. You still did not believe I was strong enough to hold it. For almost a year our hangouts would end late at night with you telling me all the reasons you wanted to die that you did not believe life could get better because life had only shown you its ugliness. No matter how much I tried to share with you the beauty I had seen, your depression would not allow you to see past it. No matter how much I encouraged you to seek help, you believed you were too far gone for anyone to 'fix' you. You had been my support for so long, I chose to live harder for both of us. I hoped it would vicariously infect you or something. It didn't.
Then you started talking about 26.
26 was far away.
There was time for change.
I had hope.
Nails died.
26 got closer, even though it should have been 10 months away.
I couldn't bring Nails back nor was I sufficient to fill the abyss of his absence. I tried to see you more. Tried to comfort you. The only thing you would accept was the promise that I would keep living. I would give it to you because it was all I had.
26 kept creeping closer.
I would brush off all the thoughts of my life without you and keep living because I made a promise. I made a promise a million times over, in hope that you would stay.
May
Taco Tuesday.
Fred's Mexican on main street Huntington Beach. It was such a beautiful fucking day. We were laughing so much. You complimenting strangers. I believed that you were happy. I felt so secure in my decision to leave you and Blake alone at Goat Hill. You two were basically brothers. You would take care of each other while I got some rest before work the next day. To this day we have no idea how Blake made it home without you but he did.
And that is where you lost it.
26 was this night. August 21 was too far away and it was all going to end tonight.
At first, I was so frustrated with you persevering at 4 am about how 'worthless' you were because you couldn't protect Blake (who was completely fine and passed out in bed). I wasn't listening to you because you were drunk and I was tired. I took your keys because I love you and I was not going to lose someone else to drunk driving. You took the clicker so you could get 'something' from your car. I have not forgotten the sound of your knife across my Rutan couch.
I gave you till 10 to hand it over.
You refused.
I called 911.
You begged me to hang up and just let you go. Today was not 26.
I remember thinking the Operator was an idiot for suggesting I leave the house for my safety. Bitch, please. You had been living for me. There wasn't a chance in hell you were going to hurt me. I sure as hell wasn't going to let you get away without seeing 26.
26 was fucking beautiful, wasn't it?
Watching you recover and grow and love yourself; is one of the most important things I have had the privilege of experiencing. I look forward to every chance I get to see you again. Even when I am far away, you are present in my mind and life. If anything, you are capable of loving me more than before. That is why I keep living. Because I am loved. Because I love you too much to let you live a life without me.