I'm saving myself

Let me clear this up right now. I understand exactly why you're gone. You stayed by me for a short while, dragging me away from suicide. On the beach, you told me that we could be romantically involved again. You took that back. You told me we could be best friends. I tried to just accept that, but I doubted my will to live without your love. I realized that I was saying too much to you for nothing. I went to therapy. It helped me. But it was too late. That evening, you stopped talking to me.

You're gone because I didn't improve quickly enough. I thought I needed you to be even closer to even keep breathing. I was wrong. Look at me now, months later. I am alive, even though I'm probably dead to you. Look at me now. I'm managing and even enjoying life, even though you're not lessening my burdens. Look at me. The only place you are in my life is in my heart, yet I'm still using you to get better.

I think that perhaps I'm as well as I'll ever be without you here. I think I can push myself through this world without you here. However, I don't want to. The reason I'm still going is so that I'm well enough for you to take my side again. I'm aiming to be able enough that you can hold my hand without having me drag you down. This hurts. My feelings hurt.

I am bleeding from innumerable slices across the skin of my life. The apathy of depression is a drug that removes the pain, but also removes the grip from my hands. My will is a hot iron that I use to cauterize my wounds. To keep my life from bleeding out, I cannot just dose up on apathy. But endure too many burns at once and I'll black out, dropping the iron, while wounds open up again. Nobody else can hold that iron. Nobody else can close my wounds. The most anyone can do to help is keep me awake. The voice I hear loudest is yours.

The words from those who are placing themselves right next to me sound raspy and puny. Yet even just the echo of you in my heart chimes clearly, though distantly. If you were with me, holding my hand, I could stay awake, perhaps even burn all these wounds shut. If your echo has brought me this far, then maybe your presence would bring me the rest of the way. That's why I have this to say.

Please. I think I've done enough on my own.