Life is lived in isolated moments stored in our memories. Some of them are buried so deep, you would never even know they were there until something comes along and connects them to your consciousness, and they rush back as if you just lived them again. The scent of the night pouring through your screen, blowing open your curtains like a ghost. The way it rained and small droplets of mist landed on my face beneath the window. The sound of the train whistle 3 miles east and the shriek of the steel wheels across the iron track. I got up early that morning. I never even slept. It was dark outside and absolutely nothing was moving. I would have known the time if the alarm clock weren't blinking midnight eternally. I wanted to to see the sun rise one more time over Horse Island. Alone. I wanted to watch the geese huddle together in the channel and chase each other under the bridge. I threw on a shirt in the darkness of my apartment and followed the tracks we made a thousand times to the place that we would retreat to. I put my line in the water, hoping not to catch anything. I had the best seat in the house to watch the fire rise from below the horizon. I wanted to see it one more time. We used to often spend the night out there and watch it become tomorrow. Tomorrow never gave me anything to look forward to. I think I smoked 2 packs of cigarettes that night as I listened to the water collapse against the rocks, then rebound like the sound of my heart beating through fluid.
The sun came up and it became today and I could not be any more grateful for the grace of God to keep me in His hands. I was going nowhere and now I am here. I am still nowhere, but quite a distance from where I was, with millions of miles to travel ahead.
I think this is the source of my nightmares. I relate what Will did, to what I tried to do. The thoughts and emotions mix together with my own memories and experience. I hurt because the outcome that I got was not the same as his. He should be here with me, hoping for tomorrow. With me.
I am gonna let go soon. I am holding on so tight my knuckles have turned white. My hands are weakening and I can't keep this up. I have to let go soon because it is the right thing to do, even if it rips me apart. I have to forget about all the guilt I feel for the way things happened and for missing all of those chances. I have to let go of all of the anger I hold on to with all my might. I am holding on to this branch and God wants me to let go and fall. Not to the ground, but into His arms. I am afraid. I am not afraid of more pain, I am afraid that letting go will make me forget everything. I know it isn't true. It is irrational. When did anything about suicide seem rational to anyone, especially to those who feel deleted.
Those years are not erased or wasted. Set em up for the Dead End Kids.