We Are Broken
I hope you are starting to see a theme in my entry titles. This song, my friends is from Paramore. Look it up, and you shall return with a new insight. Well, I hope or else I'll be fucked.
Broken. That's a common feeling in my life. I had a friend of mine die when we were 12. She was broken, and I think I have been ever since. Okay, her life was FUCKED. So don't judge her based on this. You didn't know her. Hell, I feel like I hardly know her. Her parents despised her, despite her amazing artistic ability and brilliant mind for a 12 year old. They also praised her (now) ex-drug addict, jock of a brother. I guess (actually, I know), that is what drove her to killing herself. Yeah. Twelve years old. She slit both of her wrists. Again, Thirteen Reasons Why would greatly benefit you right now. Except, I found her. Her brother and I found her. She called me one evening after dinner, her parents M.I.A. as per usual, asking to hang out. So, I went over to her house like I always did. Her brother answered like he usually did, and we both walked into her room. It was like time froze. It couldn't be real. She always said if she died at a young age, she would want me to be the one to find her because her parents would probably just throw her away in a dumpster somewhere. I thought she was joking. That's when I learned any talk about suicide isn't a joke, whether or not it comes off that way. I will never forget that. I hope you all keep that with you, too. It may save a life someday. It just won't save Ali's. I hold that guilt with me everyday. Yeah, I know, this is a harder story to read compared to my ones thus far, but there is a reason. Why do you think I can't joke with this? If you don't know, I suppose you'll see eventually. For the record, my best friend doesn't even know I was the one to find her. Neither do my parents. They just know she is a girl I knew that tragically died. The cop that was first on the scene was a family friend, so he made sure he was the one questioning me. I told him to let me be the one to tell my parents, and he agreed. I didn't. I couldn't. To this day, I don't know how. I'm still scared. I still hold this with me.
Why do you think I see so many doctors to manage my crazy? Sometimes, I like to think about what it would be like if she were here. What she would say if she knew I was hurting myself or knew I contemplated suicide a couple times throughout the years. Honestly, she would be pissed. She would probably tell me I shouldn't be sitting here thinking about her and what could be. She always was the voice of reason. Yeah, I miss her. I miss her so much it hurts sometimes. That's how it is with all the people on this list. "It gets easier with time," they say. They lie. You just start forgetting more and more details about the ones you love over time. It's not easier. It's breaking off a piece of yourself, shattering it into a million pieces, and slowly taking a few away every year until all the pieces are gone except one: their name. THAT is what losing someone is like.
Broken. That's a common feeling in my life. I had a friend of mine die when we were 12. She was broken, and I think I have been ever since. Okay, her life was FUCKED. So don't judge her based on this. You didn't know her. Hell, I feel like I hardly know her. Her parents despised her, despite her amazing artistic ability and brilliant mind for a 12 year old. They also praised her (now) ex-drug addict, jock of a brother. I guess (actually, I know), that is what drove her to killing herself. Yeah. Twelve years old. She slit both of her wrists. Again, Thirteen Reasons Why would greatly benefit you right now. Except, I found her. Her brother and I found her. She called me one evening after dinner, her parents M.I.A. as per usual, asking to hang out. So, I went over to her house like I always did. Her brother answered like he usually did, and we both walked into her room. It was like time froze. It couldn't be real. She always said if she died at a young age, she would want me to be the one to find her because her parents would probably just throw her away in a dumpster somewhere. I thought she was joking. That's when I learned any talk about suicide isn't a joke, whether or not it comes off that way. I will never forget that. I hope you all keep that with you, too. It may save a life someday. It just won't save Ali's. I hold that guilt with me everyday. Yeah, I know, this is a harder story to read compared to my ones thus far, but there is a reason. Why do you think I can't joke with this? If you don't know, I suppose you'll see eventually. For the record, my best friend doesn't even know I was the one to find her. Neither do my parents. They just know she is a girl I knew that tragically died. The cop that was first on the scene was a family friend, so he made sure he was the one questioning me. I told him to let me be the one to tell my parents, and he agreed. I didn't. I couldn't. To this day, I don't know how. I'm still scared. I still hold this with me.
Why do you think I see so many doctors to manage my crazy? Sometimes, I like to think about what it would be like if she were here. What she would say if she knew I was hurting myself or knew I contemplated suicide a couple times throughout the years. Honestly, she would be pissed. She would probably tell me I shouldn't be sitting here thinking about her and what could be. She always was the voice of reason. Yeah, I miss her. I miss her so much it hurts sometimes. That's how it is with all the people on this list. "It gets easier with time," they say. They lie. You just start forgetting more and more details about the ones you love over time. It's not easier. It's breaking off a piece of yourself, shattering it into a million pieces, and slowly taking a few away every year until all the pieces are gone except one: their name. THAT is what losing someone is like.
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