Today is not a good anniversary. My best friend committed suicide 17yrs ago today, back when we were 15. The pain’s not a raw as it was, and not so sick as two years ago when I realized she had then been dead for longer than she had lived. I’m going to light a candle, listen to music, and cuddle my cats. Write if I have the mind for it, and read, or doodle if I don’t.
She was sick, and she was hurting, I stopped being angry a long time ago, but the hurt doesn’t stop, it just fades. I’m sorry we couldn’t save her, and I’m sorry she hurt as long as she did. She was loved. She is loved. Fly free.