I knew you so well.
And I know as soon as you did it,
regret flooded over you like a river in a rainstorm.
You were filled with it.
Overflowing with sorrow of all you left behind.
Your family,
Your brother,
nephews,
and friends,
are left with unanswered questions
of why.

It was a mistake, we know it was.
And I am sorry.
That you felt so much pain in your heart
that you felt it was easier to not be here at all.
To take it all away from yourself like a thief.

Except you didn’t just rob yourself,
You robbed everyone who loved you,
Of all the years of joy and happiness that they should have had with you.
And never will.

One decision, one mistake,
and yet so many innocent people now suffer
the consequences.
In one instant an entire life in the making,
lost.

We were here
But we didn’t hear you calling our names.
But were you even calling?

“I’m sorry,” send.
For what?
“Love you.” Send.
What’s going on?
No answer.

Bang, gone.
22 years all down the drain,
22 years of laughter,
22 years of joy,
22 years of pain,
22 years of growing,
And learning, and making mistakes.
Except, this mistake you will never learn from.

And I continue to ask why.
But yet, I could not be in your head,
I could not feel your pain,
your sadness,
your suffering.
So who am I to place your blame?
If I could, I would have sucked it out of you like a vacuum,
Because you deserved better.

I tried to understand,
But I cant.
I know how it feels to want to end it all.
The emptiness,
The gut wrenching feeling that you’re not good enough.
The void that can’t be filled.
To shut the lights off,
Turn off the noise.

But even so,
I still can’t justify the mess you made,
Or wrap my head around the facts.
I cant believe what you are capable of.
My wounded heart just doesn’t understand
the wound you endorsed,
At the hands of yourself,

It feels surreal,
And I feel angry.
It feels like I’m constantly drowning,
And I’m trying to come up for a breath of air,
But someone is holding me down.
I see the surface, but just I cant reach it,
I’m out of control.

Or like I’m in one of those dreams where I am trying to run, but I’m stuck in slow motion.
Or the dream where you throw a punch,
but your fist is too heavy,
And it makes you angrier and angrier.
I’m so furious,
And I want to believe you’re at peace,
But how can I when you have been taken
From everything you love?

Your beauty was just too beautiful for the world.
Your kindness was too kind,
Your generosity was too generous,
Your personality was too big,
Your passion was too passionate,
Your strength was too strong.

You were too much for this Earth to handle.
Thats why she took you from us.
It took 22 years to find out
that you were too good for this world.

You wanted to receive your halo and wings early.
When daddy said you were his Angel,
he didn’t mean it literally,
But I guess you had other plans.

Now you will forever be 22 years young.
And I will forever wonder what could have been.

I wonder what it must be like
to have a normal self-image.
To not be swallowed up by body dysmorphia,
Stealing away every opportunity that comes.

I wonder what it must be like
to show up just as you are,
Instead of avoiding and hiding away,
So not to be seen the way that you are.

What a relief it would be
To look in the mirror and not see an enemy.
To not want to throw up at the sight,
Of the body that serves me every day

To not want to shatter the mirror into pieces,
As if it makes me go away.
To glance at my reflection in a window,
And not startle at the monster staring back.

I wonder what it would be like
To not pick myself apart,
And chip away any self-esteem left,
Just to convince myself of how bad I am.

What a relief it would be,
To have it be the last thing I’m worried about.
To feel good enough to chase a dream,
Even just good enough to participate.

To allow myself to feel excited,
Without the side conversations in my head.
The intrusive thoughts that shatter me
And suffering caused by distortion.

What it must be like
To wake up in the morning and not worry
About what new perceived image
You will have in the reflection this time.

To not be obsessed and compulsive.
To not base my activities around
How I feel about myself
To not be restricted.

I wonder what life I’d have
If I didn’t restrain myself from it.
To break free from the prison of my mind
That holds me chained against my will.

The disorder has me in a chokehold,
And there is no release.
I am in an endless battle with my mind,
And I wish I could just be free.

How does it feel
To not be restricted by behavior
That stops you from leaving your house?
Repetitive, agonizing, panicky behavior

What a relief it would be, to just be.