by G. B.
Roommate asked about my sister today. I told her I’d tell her everything about her outside of February. Sad part is, I don’t really remember the day Amber committed suicide, shortly after I heard the news I was drunk, and very intentionally stayed that way for the next six weeks. Year went by, and I couldn’t remember the damn day. Didnt matter. Doesn’t now. I dont really care to know too much now. I just know that this, the end of February is my time of mourning. I’ll remember her, I’ll have a drink to her, I’ll pray for her, hell I’ll pray to her. I’ll talk to her. But I wont talk about her. not at the end of february. But I suppose I could write a little bit… That might be cathartic.
This little pic is the last picture of her ever, smiling with my dad as they go through the family album. Didnt realize it at the time, but this was her trip to say goodbye to all of us. She was so happy to be saying goodbye, and none of us knew it.
So, if you’re thinking about suicide, don’t. Because people care about you. Fuck, I care about you, and it will fuck me up and all the rest who you leave behind it’ll fuck them up too, fuck em up for life. Don’t think we are better off without you,