It had been a good day, a very good day. My band mates and I had gone to see one of our favorite bands, The Used, downtown. The gig was great, and when we left, everyone had smiles on their faces. If only I had realized that one of those smiles was fake….
We went to the twins’ house after stopping to get some food. Everything was totally normal. Until…...He killed himself.
The ambulance came. We were almost to the hospital. He died. Right there. In front of me. I watched my best friend—and almost lover—pass away. He didn’t have the best parents, see. His mother was a druggie, his father, an abusive drunk. I used to sneak into their house and take care of him every night, cleaning any cuts, etc. His twin was never touched, though. I guess that was the initial stressor. But then he decided to take money from his parents and buy me a necklace. He told me that he loved me, but did I give him the response he wanted? Of course not. I told him that he was simply like a brother to me, not seeing that I actually did love him in a more-than-friend way until he was gone. When I came over that night, he yelled at me to get out of his house. He could hardly walk. That was a week before the concert, a week before…
After that event, I was placed on suicide watch and admitted to a mental hospital. Anti-depressants weren’t enough; I needed pain medication. They agreed to give me Oxycontin for the deep gashes I had in my arms but warned me that I could easily become addicted. I didn’t care.
But, after a year, I realized that he’s never coming back and that I should see how precious life is and cherish every other moment. The necklace he gave me acted as a life preserver, keeping me from drowning in my sorrows. I haven’t cut or touched Oxycontin in 1 year, 3 months and 3 days. I’m stronger than that.
Even though I have had 3 more friends pass away since that fateful day, I’ve never felt better, knowing that, no matter what happens, I have the willpower to keep going and follow my dreams.