Ever since I was little, I was always angry at nothing. Having to try and put myself out there for the benefit of other people.. made me so mad that I didn't know what to do with myself. I always thought, "Why? Am I not good the way I am? Meeting new people is hard, I don't need to." All day every day, I would pity myself over it. Whether it be the rain getting my jacket wet or my pencil breaking, I felt sorry that I even existed. It upset me, I didn't deserve it is what I thought. I deserved better than this. So just thinking about the word "Love" wasn't even something that crossed my mind. Occassionaly, I would see posters for school dances and valentines day fesitivities when it was around that time. But it never really affected me or made me do anything out of the ordinary. To put it in short words: I believed I was inferior, that there was no reason to put time and effort into something that I will forget about in several years. That was my mindset for way too long. But then he came along. He changed my perspective on everything. To put it in a way that you would understand, he was everything that my life lacked. I would've never went to bed with another person on my mind if it wasn't for him. Was I in love with him? Maybe, he was all I ever needed at the time. It wasn't anything weird though. I wasn't dependent on him and he ignored my high ego and saw me differently than others. A nice change in my life. Something.. that I really needed, you know? But.. it didn't last long. He was sick. He took medication for it and had hospital visits weekly, but he was still sick. I tried to put my meaning into my words, telling him that he was gonna be okay. But it never got to him. He never got better and he never made an effort to. He even stopped taking his medication after it stopped working properly. So eventually, he died. His death was in his sleep, so no one knew what I did to him. I was in so much pain. The neighbors even left a little memorial for him outside of the apartment complex, he was that special. I would always pass by it on my way to work, leaving something there every time I passed. But every time I did, it's like something inside of me grew larger. Larger to the point where I could almost feel it gaping out of my chest. I felt ill and wanted to throw up, holding my stomach as I walk past, throwing the flower down and running away. To put it lightly, I felt as if I had the flu. But why? Why did I feel this way? No one has ever treated me like he did, so was it sadness? Anxiety? Isn't this all apart of grieving? Why aren't I feeling better? Why did he die and not me? Was it my fault? Is this what guilt feels like? It only got worse as time went on, I had to change my route to work. It took me longer and I would get yelled at by my boss, but I couldn't take it anymore. It was just one more thing to pity myself about. Eventually, the sadness turned into something much worse. Anger started to fill me more and more, thinking about him. His personality, his face, his smile, his illness, his name, the way he spoke to me, it all made me want to do what I did all over again. Again. Again. Again. Again. And again. I stopped showing up to work out of fear I would hurt someone because of it. I stopped pitying myself and I stopped doing basic self care. What was the point anyway? I thought it was depression or some other mental illness, but it wasn't. But why am I feeling this way? I was so confused. I thought I did a good thing. I put him out of his suffering, his endless hospital visits, his sickness. Being able to hold him as he died, I felt as if I was dying with him. Seeing heaven for the first time as I suffocated him. Why did he cry? It was just me. I didn't deserve to hear that. I deserved a thank you. I would rather wallow in my guilt and burn in hell than have to hear him cry again. It was pathetic. Not only on his end, but mine. I wanted better. I DESERVED better. To put it lightly, I did a good thing. Now, I have nothing in my way. Nothing to waste my time and effort on, nothing to pity myself over. Seeing myself in the mirror is no longer just a reflection staring back, but a reminder of how much good I have done. How great I am. howhw much good i have done