Six years ago today, I lost a friend to suicide. That was the first time I knew what suicide actually meant. You know, you read the news and papers and they talk about so-and-so killed himself and God-knows-who jumped in front of the train and my family and I would go “damn, that’s harsh”.
It started with a light.
Like all things before the dawn of time immemorial, there was light and there was dark. Then came the sounds; screeching, shouting, cries for God. After that were colours, red, white, yellow. Not black, black isn’t a colour, it’s a hue, but there were…
Dear twenty five year old me,
Im sorry that your self confidence is a shattered stained glass next to the garbage bin stuck in the mud.
I’m sorry that because of me you never got past the first relationship.