FicWad

February ninth. It would have been four years today, but he died a few short of our third anniversary. I was robbed; the moments we should’ve shared were taken from me. The closest I am to being with him is sitting beside his grave and grieving for him. People say the pain dies down and eases. In my case it still pierces my heart as though someone were hammering pins through it one by one.
He’s gone, and I can never see him again. It feels as though there’s a barrier between the two of us forming a line between life and death. It feels as if this barrier keeps us apart by only inches, but in those inches all our connections are lost. Six feet between us physically but an iron curtain keeps us apart mentally.
My mind is left to wander down intricate roads trying not to think about him while trying not to forget those precious, important and cherished moments. The more time that passes, the worse the grief becomes and the harder it is to carry on. I feel as though I have to drag myself out of bed in the morning because there’s nothing to wake up to, no one to wake up for. I wish I was with Jared.
Taking my own life would be selfish to those who care about me. For once, I’ve chosen to go against what would be right for those around me. I can’t live without Jared and I won’t live without Jared. I knew that he was the only one I could’ve spent my life with.
I feel as though I’m only four years old, because I only started to live when I met Jared. He died, and I died with him. I always looked at people who tried to commit suicide with sympathy, not knowing how they could do it, but swallowing the pills and drinking the vodka was easy. Simple, as a matter of fact. It won’t be long now. I feel as if I’m going home.