How could I be called strong when my weakness is the reason you left? How could I move on when I could have but didn’t prevent your death? You made up your mind without saying goodbye and while I love you, I wish you hadn’t lied to me when I asked you how you were feeling. You said to me that you were healing but maybe that was just a synonym for keeping it bottled up, locked in, so no one could find it.
So now I find myself wondering if I should’ve read between the lines. I find myself blaming me for not listening right. Even though, I know it is not my fault.
I know this is what you wanted, and I hope you have found peace. I just wish you had talked to me one last time before setting yourself free. I wishI had one more chance to hug you before seeing those blue lights leave. But you’re gone and I’m still in disbelieve.