It’s been months since I’ve written. Months since I felt the need to write. I guess there’s good and bad that comes with that. It means that I’ve been happy enough to not feel the need to write, and that now.. not-so-happy. That’s life… Isn’t it? One minute you’re happy as can be, and the next you’re drowning in your own self-despair.
I’ve been able to live a happier and carefree life in the past couple of months than I have in years. I thought I found “the one” and instead of still making steps to focus on me and continue healing, I put my entire self into a relationship that would eventually end, and, with the end, break me down. But that’s not the point… Is it?
The point is that, at the end of the day, I’m alive. I’m alive through it all. I have survived more than most ever face in a lifetime. I have survived suicide, abuse in every way possible, abandonment, heartbreak, and… I’m alive.
In an hour from the time I post this, I will have exactly one week until the five-year anniversary of my brother’s death. I will have to face the pain of remembering the day it all happened. The day my life changed. Every single thing that happened that day has been running through my head, and… I will finally have to face it.
Five years is a long time. Half a decade. One thousand eight hundred and twenty-six days. I remember the days I thought that it was a sick joke and that he was going to walk through the door. I remember having to simply delete his number from my phone because I would constantly call it. And now… I’m holding onto dear life the memory of his voice.
So maybe this is the most inconvenient time for a breakup. Maybe it’s the best time. To lose everything all over again… To lose it at the same time. Maybe someday I’ll be thankful and not as resentful. I officially have a time allotted for the worst part of the year. A time to lose everything.
I want to be happy. For once, I want to have an anniversary that isn’t so painful. I want an anniversary where I can remember his voice. Remember his bright blue eyes. Remember the feeling of safety I had when around him. Remember that I’ll always be his little sister. Remember that he wouldn’t want me to hurt so bad and feel so lost.
But for now… I can dust myself off, and hope that next year it won’t hurt so bad.