Sick

I'm going to clean out my friend's house today. She tried to kill herself two nights ago. 

     I'm bracing myself. When I talk to someone like me, I start to feel everything I felt when I was at my lowest. This is going to be really, really hard. I don't know how I'm going to act when I see her in the hospital, I don't know how I'm going to act when I'm alone. I don't know what the sight of her blood on the carpet is going to do to me, because I know it's going to look just like mine. 

Could I have prevented this? No. None of us knew until it was too late to keep her from trying. Do I still feel guilty? Yes. 
     Not guilty enough, though. I haven't cried yet, and I'm starting to beat myself up over it. That's a bad sign. 
     My skin hurts.

I don't want to sound insensitive, but I think this was ridiculous. This never should have happened, and I think the reason it did happen was pretty damn stupid. I know, I'm a big fucking hypocrite and I'm going to regret my words. But I'm so angry right now. 
     
     I'm a horrible person. 

     Fuck this. I'm the worst kind of person. And all my hard work just went out the fucking window. 

Hang the fuck on, or else you'll end up like my friend, or worse...like me,
Ness