Am I truly gone? You can still picture me, can’t you?

My brown hair, my dark eyes. Every curve of my body,

Every freckle on my face.

 

You don’t?
 

That’s a shame.

 

I assume you remember the day. My empty home.

The attic door open. A rope. A fallen chair.

The look on your face.

I still feel guilty for that.

I never meant to hurt you.

Don’t think it’s your fault.

 

I just had to go.

It was all too much for me.

I couldn’t stay here.

 

But for you to just sit there, wasting away.

Stop it.

I can’t bear to watch you fall apart.

All over me.

To lose your faith in life over the absence of mine.

You might as well be dead yourself.