The reality of falling for someone who only flirts with death
I’ve never been the type of girl to date a man that was good for me. I’ve always used to the bad boys. I never viewed myself as good enough for anyone, so when I met him, he fit right in.
This is for you, you know who you are.
I pictured what you’d look like in your casket far more often than I should have. The thoughts I had of you deceased consumed my brain. I couldn’t help but imagine getting a call from your mother, your sister, the police, or the emergency room telling me that you were gone. I imagined them telling me to come say my goodbyes to your lifeless body. I picture you overdosed, somewhere you know you shouldn’t have been, with someone you knew wasn’t your friend.
I envision them telling me that the Narcan hadn’t brought you back this time. They will tell me that they tried to save you but I still won’t believe them. I imagine what it would feel like to lay my head on your cold chest. I would no longer hear the heartbeat that I tried so hard to keep beating.
I have visualized myself at your wake. I would be dressed in a long black dress, with my hair untamed, wearing no makeup. This is the look you fell in love with. I would find myself apologizing to your family for failing to save you. I would listen to them tell me this isn’t my fault, but I would tell them that they are wrong.
I would cry because I would realize that this would be the last time I would see your face. I would never get the chance to touch you, to feel you, to kiss you ever again. We would never get to live out our spontaneous life plans together.
I can picture myself at your funeral. I would be pleading, speaking to all of your loved ones about the amazing man you were. I would tell them how addicts take good people, and you were taken from me. I would tell them about all the times you made me smile. This would be followed by more tears, realizing that you are really gone.
I would make sure that I meticulously planned for your funeral. I would take as much time as I needed to look for the most amazing Batesville caskets for sale, the flowers that would accompany you on your final journey, and the songs that reminded us of you. Because you deserve the best.
I would attend your funeral and watch your wooden coffin be put into the deep soil of the graveyard. I imagine myself screaming for them to stop, slamming my body on top of your coffin. Your father would rip my body away, repeating that you are gone. I will tell him he is wrong because this couldn’t have happened, that you wouldn’t do this to me, you promised.
I will tell him how it is not your time and how you promised you would never leave. He will keep repeating to me that you are never coming back.
Suddenly, I wake up and you are sleeping peacefully next to me. I turn over and make sure you are still breathing. I go and make my coffee and start my day.
You once asked me if I still wanted to be with an addict, after watching the horrific heroin abuse you chose to live with. I innocently said yes.
You are in rehab now and and I just received a letter that you want to go your separate way. This was my reality for almost a year. Making sure someone was alive. And now I must move on.
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