10/2/26

13 years go by and the same thing happens again. Am I stuck in this cycle? What is the point of it? Grief rewrites your past. Even annoying memories become tinged with something, a sheen of loss. The brain sees them differently. I see you differently, I guess. The times you drove me in the rain because I was scared of the storm, the time the toilet flooded our apartment and you helped stop the water from gushing, the countless times we bickered and you annoyed me because we were rarely on the same page. I guess that is why we haven't spoken in a year; not out of anger, just that slow fade in friendships that happens not when you stop caring, but you just stop having things in common. I thought about messaging you earlier in the year about new games I was playing on the PC you had built me, but I don't remember why I didn't. Probably just thought you were doing okay and I didn't need to bother you. What I'll really remember is that the year I most wanted to take my life, you helped me through it, you commiserated. I should have helped you, too. I don't know what it means, that the two worst losses of my life have happened by suicide. It probably doesn't mean anything. Except that I am powerless, all of the time. You can try to save people. You can save them, sometimes, by hiding bullets or calling an ambulance. But sometimes, you are powerless. That does not mean you are useless. I guess I can try to remind myself that.