I don’t know who the hell is going to see this, and I don’t really care. You were 23 when you killed yourself on your birthday back in August, and I turned 21 in October. At first I was confused why the world kept on going without you, and now I’m just pissed off. Not at you, but that this is just how things have to be now. You know I wasn’t a person who instigated things, but now I’m just itching for someone to try and start something with me so I have an excuse to punch something.
But at the end of the day it isn’t anger. It’s a sadness and feeling of confusion so deep I can’t even see the other side of it. It’s being frustrated at not knowing how much pain must have been inside for you to shoot yourself and die all alone. I wish I could shake and scream at you or even just give you one last awkward brother hug.
Or punch you really hard in the shoulder for making me go through a 4 hour open casket viewing talking to people who didn’t really know you and will never ever understand the amount of raw pain this is to wake up to every morning. These days I zone out so hard for so long to get away from thinking and feeling that sometimes you have to nudge me to bring me back to what’s going on.
I don’t know. If I had a dime for every time someone told me “time will make it better” I could have worn something MUCH nicer to your funeral. There was so much love and kindness left in your heart, and we all just hope you’re someplace where you aren’t hurting anymore.
Love you dude. See you later.