Blue Suicide

Easy to accept, hard to fully understand. Bits and pieces were coming together every day, and while it was easy to accept it was difficult to live with. The glazed over stares that I had to learn to become used to, for days emotionally I was at the point where I wanted to shake him, hoping the illness would somehow slip out from his eyes. Hiding this was hard, he was needier now yet still distant. Everything was a contradiction, every response I would give to his questions concerning the voices he was hearing were pathetic and inadequate right after another. I was on repeat, always. It was hard not to dwell on the past, to keep the relationship going between him and I solely on nostalgia. I was disgusting for forgetting that he was still the same person essentially, just “a little” insane like we’d joke about. It was never funny, and we both knew that but continued to keep the saying alive. Brandon was still Brandon, he only needed extra attention and help (and medication and a therapist and more medication but that can be irrelevant.) The names we’d given each other meant less to him now, and I think it will always hurt. Never hearing the endearment “love” was slowly decomposing my bones. He’s lost that bit of him somewhere, schizophrenia snatched it from him and I am such a lonely soul because I let it. Watching him wither away, and I have anger eating me up for it, lost on who to blame. I could never blame him. I love him too much to ever do that, no matter how much it’s killing me on the inside and how I’ve become so empty.

"You still love me after all this though, right? It's harder now, I know. I'm trying..."

"Stop, it's okay. Of course I love you."